Breathless
by OrangePlum
Summary: Arthur Kirkland never thought that golden boy Alfred Jones would ever have a reason to attempt suicide. Then again, how much did he really know about the oh so popular blonde? The rumor mill would surely chew him up and spit him out.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Notes: _

__This was fun, but some might deem it an emotional roller coaster, depending on the experiences they've had in this lifetime. The cover art is done by the ever lovely Malsavaidity, or Heroic Pen here on . She does wonderful work, so you should pay her a visit on deviantart. :)

Enjoy.

* * *

_Pretty, pretty please, don't you ever, ever feel _

_like your less than, less than perfect?_

_Pretty, pretty please, if you ever, ever feel _

_like your nothing, you are perfect to me._

- Pink, Fucking Perfect

* * *

It was no news that rumors spread like wildfire once released to a high school campus. However, the topic of the rumors now consuming my school was something else entirely.

The oh-so-popular and perfect wonder boy, Alfred Jones, was in the hospital. That didn't seem strange to me at all as I stared dully at the clock, hearing students behind me buzzing about in worry or excitement. Alfred was a major part of our football team, so naturally I brushed my classmate's words off with ease. It wasn't like I cared in particular for Alfred's health. The daft fool was a meathead jock stereotype who received way more attention than he deserved. His presence annoyed me to great lengths and I went out of my way to avoid listening to or about him.

He probably tried to climb a tree to save a poor, little kitten and had fallen out due to his klutziness. I snorted. That sounded more appropriate. The boy really did try and do more than he should, acting as if he were some sort of hero.

I started to gather my bag and books when the bell rang, another day over as quickly as it came. I sighed under my breath, loathing adjusting to my parents move to America. This country was just so…_ not_ home.

I stilled, though, and dropped a book on accident when I heard a girl talking to another behind me.

"Yeah, I heard he tried to kill himself when his mom walked in."

Both girls glanced up when hearing the clatter, seeing me staring at them with a sense of disbelief before I caught myself and bent to pick my book up hastily. They brushed it off quickly and began making their way out into the hall.

"It's just surprising. He always seemed so happy whenever I saw him."

I stood up properly and blinked, a trickle of surprise lingering in my bones. Alfred had tried to commit suicide? Somehow my mind wasn't even able to comprehend that. Weren't the popular blokes supposed to be all cheerful and happy? Perhaps I had watched the wrong movies or something because that's what I thought Alfred was. I frowned and followed after my classmates out of the classroom and into the bustling halls.

No, this was probably just another rumor. It was unheard of that someone such as Alfred would do such a thing. The school seemed to think he had such a bright, endless future. I didn't care where he ended up, however, and it was reasonable to feel that way. We had never had a pleasant conversation in my life. The only times that he did talk to me was to go out of his way to joke about my eyebrows or copy last-second notes off of me.

It was just a stupid rumor, that was all.

And yet a week later, after the rumors of Alfred trying to take his life developed into its own entity, there stood Alfred in the doorway, not looking as he always did. He didn't look different, though, per se. I sat up in my chair and watched the tall blonde glance around the room of talking students. He dressed the same, his face looked the same, and nothing seemed out of place physically with the boy. Alfred just appeared to be… withdrawn? Was that the word I was looking for?

There was no large, sparkling smile. There was no strong and confident posture. There was no boisterous voice or chipper shout to his friends across the room. He was just… there.

The classroom went nearly silent as most of the students caught sight of the golden boy, and many stared. Alfred fidgeted, almost seeming nervous, as he smiled a weak smile in comparison to his usual pearly whites and walked into the classroom, as if he was trying to seem more positive than he was.

I looked away and seemed– and was (_was_) disinterested when I shifted through my notes I had done the previous night. Alfred took his normal seat next to me and flexed his fingers out against the desktop. It was obvious to see that Alfred was uncomfortable from all this attention. I had a slight feeling that he knew word had spread of what he supposedly did.

It was actually a little ironic. From what I've known about Alfred since arriving in America to this school four months ago, Alfred was an attention whore. At least that was what I labeled him as. Constantly needing to be in the spotlight and being the star of the show, Alfred seemed to light up under the gaze of people's eyes. The tables seemed to have turned, making him shy away self-consciously from the dozens of eyes on him now.

For the first time in my life, Alfred looked stiff and uneasy.

The quiet was soon breached when the teacher walked briskly into the classroom, not even noticing the blonde cowlick in the front that had been missing for nearly a week and a half. He started distractedly passing out papers.

"Alright, alright. Quiet down, we're taking a test now. I don't want to see any cheating, so put your books and bags under your desks and–" he paused when stopping in front of Alfred's row. I glanced to see Alfred look up at him behind his glasses with a hesitant expression on his face. The teacher stared a moment before continuing his task of distributing the papers.

"Glad to see you back, Alfred. Have you been doing the homework I sent you?" he asked, bypassing Alfred.

Alfred gave a quelled laugh that sounded a little fake to me. "Uh… no, not really. I tried to do it, but then I realized that I didn't _want_ to make pie charts on the Civil War."

Our teacher, Mr. Carter, smiled with a snort. "Right. That was completely my bad. I guess you'll just have to take this test blindly, then."

Alfred sat up with a look of disbelief before Mr. Carter laughed. "I'm kidding. Of course I'll give you sufficient time to make up for your absences."

His gaze lingered on Alfred, who shifted in his chair and nodded, digging around in his backpack for a notebook. I thought he understood how far these rumors could go; they even breached the teachers. Before I could gauge the atmosphere of the classroom, we were ordered to be silenced once more and take our tests.

The silence shifted from something odd I couldn't seem to place my finger on, to something familiar. It felt like that of a school again, the sound of pencils scribbling on paper and the ticking of the clock. It became halfway through my exam when I heard a small, irritated noise to my right.

Pausing for a moment, I peeked blankly from the corner of my eye to see Alfred erasing quickly at a page in front of him. I suppose he was trying to finish the homework he hadn't done wherever he was when he wasn't in class. Alfred looked frustrated down at the paper and dug his fingers into his hair, eyebrows knit in concentration.

I felt something jump in my stomach – due to what, I'm still uncertain to this day – when his jacket sleeve dipped down and I caught sight of something that looked quite certainly like gauze.

So it was true, then.

When Alfred's eyes drifted up to mine suddenly, I realized I was staring. In embarrassment, I quickly resumed my test taking, ignoring the wavering silence at my side. After a moment Alfred went back to writing and I let out a breath that I didn't know I'd been holding.

I didn't know why I was so surprised. I had no connection in particular to Alfred. We barely ever conversed, and rarely saw each other outside of school. I thought it was because I'd never known anyone who had attempted suicide, and that if someone like _Alfred_ would try it, what was stopping so many others who weren't the popular go-getters in the world?

When class was over and it was time to leave, I found myself slipping back into old, familiar habits. I had completely forgotten about Alfred's presence after being in contact with him for a set period of time. So, when I walked past him and his regular group of friends took my place, I didn't even bat an eyelash.

"Hey, Al! Where ya been, buddy? It feels like it's been forever," I heard one of his football pals laugh.

And even though Alfred laughed back and cracked a joke, I didn't even need to turn around to see the forced smile on his lips.

* * *

Routine was something I loved. It was something that made me comfortable and helped me through the few remaining months left before graduation. But most importantly, routine didn't throw any curve balls.

A few days after Alfred had returned to class, everything seemed to go back to normal. Alfred went back to trying to play the part of his old popular self, and I had to admit that he was quite good at it. If he grew up to be an actor I wouldn't be surprised. But there were flaws with his acting. He'd pause a little too long here, and his smile would waver there. To the untrained eye Alfred's performance would be flawless.

But from my seat next to him in history I could see all of these things. I didn't know why I was starting to notice and pay attention to Alfred more, but I did. I toyed with the idea that it was because Alfred had done… you know, _that_. But since it was only speculation, I had nothing to go on. Alfred never outright came out and said that he tried to take his own life. He kept away from why he was gone from school.

I suppose that was his mistake, because the student population was getting impatient and antsy with where their star pupil disappeared to.

And one afternoon before class let out a week later, pressure had mounted.

I sighed in relief when the bell had finally rung. For some reason I was eager to go home and enjoy my weekend. There was a pillow I needed to finish mending and a test to study for. I stood up from my seat and began collecting my things. Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I walked out into the busy hallway and exited the building. It was a nice spring day that greeted me as I walked down the front steps of the schoolyard. Oh, how I was glad it wasn't raining anymore.

I pulled my car keys from my pocket and began to head for my vehicle when some loud jeering caught my ears. I glanced off to the side to see Alfred and his friends by the crosswalk. A large fellow who played on the football team with Alfred had his arm looped around the boy, a grin slipping onto his face as he nudged the blonde.

"Come on, Alfred. You can tell us what you did. It's killing us to not know," he smiled.

A girl from the cheerleading team giggled into her hand. "You mean, it was killing _him_."

The group laughed at the play on words. Alfred smiled but his nose crinkled in what looked like discomfort. "It's nothing, guys. Just forget about it."

"But we heard you cut your wrists in your bathroom," another girl commented.

"Where did you hear that?" he asked, eyes wavering when looking around the expectant faces of his friends.

"From the gym teacher!" exclaimed the boy at his left. Alfred's smile faltered, a look of horror floating behind the blue of his eyes. I paused when seeing how still the Alfred got, despite his friends being careless and not noticing how sensitive this topic was. Perhaps Alfred wasn't aware that the teachers all knew of his supposed suicide attempt.

"So, is it true?" the burly looking boy asked.

"Guys…" Alfred tried weakly with the best smile he could muster.

"Did your mom really find you after breaking down the bathroom door?"

"You didn't fight with the paramedics and try to open the door and jump out on the freeway, did you?"

"I heard they stuck you in the nut house for observation."

"No! There's no way Alfred would survive the nut house," laughed another boy, nudging Alfred again with his elbow, who had now gone completely silent. My fingers flexed around my keys before I pivoted my feet at the last moment and strolled over to the group of students who didn't seem to notice how pale Alfred had gotten. They only noted my presence when Alfred looked up at me, surprise hovering over his face like a cloud.

"What's up?" a large brunette male asked me quite pointedly when I raised my eyebrow at him.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but I just remembered that your mother called, Alfred, and she wants you to get her Tupperware back that you left at my house last week."

Alfred blinked stupidly at me and I wanted to roll my eyes. Damn myself for being too nice to people who didn't deserve it. If Alfred looked confused, his pack of mindless buffoons looked absolutely bewildered.

"Last week?" his friend asked, shooting Alfred a humorous expression of confusion. Alfred looked back at him with the same amount of perplexity in his eyes.

"Wait, you were at his house last week when you were gone? I thought you–"

"You're mistaken," I interrupted calmly. "If I were you, I would ignore the senseless drivel drifting about the campus. You can never trust whatever nonsense the rumor mill spits out." I looked over towards Alfred, who had his mouth open like a gasping fish out of water. He looked positively clueless, and it was somewhat amusing.

"Would you like a ride to pick it up today? My mum doesn't want it in her kitchen any longer."

Alfred remained silent, all of his friends looking at him for direction.

I cocked my head with a stiff motion of my shoulder towards the parking lot. He snapped out of his reverie and nodded, quickly sliding out of his buddy's hold. I ignored the wave of cologne that hit me when his large body moved next to mine. "Y-yeah. Sure, that'd be cool. I'll see you later, guys."

His group of friends looked at each other in confusion before calling out to us as we walked away. "Text us!"

When we entered the parking lot I felt that awkwardness seep back in between us and I nearly regretted helping Alfred out of that pickle. Doing things on impulse was not something I should continue doing. I unlocked my car and we both slipped inside. I briskly made my way out into the street and started driving away from the school.

Alfred shifted beside me and curled his fingers behind his neck. "Hey…"

"Hm?" I replied flatly, pulling up to a stoplight.

He looked over at me and I glanced at him with forced boredom. "Uh," he let out a small chuckle before continuing. "Thanks for that."

I looked away and focused back on the light. "Don't mention it."

Alfred slumped against his chair and let out a breath through his nose. "No, seriously. What you did was–"

"I said, don't mention it."

He looked at me with large eyes. "Oh. Oh, you meant literally."

I nodded. "Which way towards your house?" I asked politely.

He clicked his tongue against his teeth before pointing right. I blindly followed his directions as I drove in silence. I could tell that it was smothering Alfred, but I already helped him out once today. I didn't need to assist in a pointless conversation when we would simply go back to being distant classmates after the weekend.

After four minutes Alfred had finally had enough. Not that that was surprising; he did talk a lot previously before that mysterious week and a half. "Your name's Arthur, right?" he asked.

"And you're Alfred," I responded. "As if anyone wouldn't know your name," I smiled without gentleness, which made a smile tug at his lips.

"Ha… Yeah, well, it's not convenient for everyone to know that now. Why the hell is this school so obsessive?" he groaned and rubbed his palms against his eyes. I shrugged and took a left where he pointed.

It was silent once more before Alfred chewed at his lip, continuously (and annoyingly) glancing at me. "Why'd you do that, anyway?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"I believe I said to not mention it," I said dismissively. In all honesty I didn't know why I did that. Obviously I was going to be questioned and _included _in this suicide rumor (which I wasn't so sure was a rumor) when school started again on Monday. Perhaps it was the trapped look on his face. Perhaps it was the topic. Or perhaps it was because I was bored. I didn't know, nor did I intend to find out.

"Yeah, but it's weird. You and I never talk, so of course I'm going to ask why you–"

"Would you rather I didn't get involved?" I asked simply. He stiffened and shook his head. I smiled. "I guess that's that, then. Now will you please tell me we're close. I don't want to drive around for an hour trying to find your house."

"Yeah. It's just up that hill."

As I headed up a steep road, Alfred jumped slightly before removing his cell phone from his pocket, frown pulling at his lips when seeing the caller on the vibrating object. "Man, it's my mom." He flipped it open. "Hey, mom. Yeah. No– no, mom, I'm coming home. No, don't send him to pick me up. I got a ride– mom, will you listen for one seco–" he groaned and ran his hand down his face. "I'm almost there. Look. I can see you right now. Yeah. Bye."

With a heavy sigh, Alfred looked out the window of my car to see a quaint blue house sitting off to the side. I observed the house with the white picket fence that looked like it jumped out of the 50s. Well, everything except the woman fretting in the window.

Alfred opened the door and turned to me with a smile. "Thanks for the ride. I appreciate it."

"Goodbye, Alfred," I said and waited for him to move from the car. He stood up and gripped the door as if to shut it before he peeked his head in, eyes holding me to my spot as he continued to chew at his lip.

"How– how come you haven't asked me about… you know?" he paused. "Everyone else has, but you…" he faded off his sentence, confusion overpowering thoughts, apparently.

I mulled this over for a moment before smiling at him. "I have no idea what you're referring to."

Alfred stared for a while before deciding that he liked my answer. He attempted his old sparkling grin at me, though it wasn't as powerful as it once was, before leaning back up. "See you at school, Arthur."

When he shut the door, I flipped the car around and sped down from the cul-de-sac on the hill.

I only then realized that once I got home, my car smelled heavily like Alfred. And no matter how hard I tried after that, I just couldn't get the smell to go away.

* * *

"Hey."

I looked up from my book in the library to feel somewhat surprised to see Alfred standing across the small table. He was smiling at me nervously, fingers pulling at his backpack strap on his shoulder. I raised an impressive eyebrow at him. Upon seeing recognition slide onto my face, Alfred continued.

"Is anyone sitting here?" he asked, gesturing to the chair across from me.

I turned my attention back towards my book and pulled my legs in. "By all means."

Alfred slowly sat down and looked around the quiet library. He whistled under his breath. "Haven't been in here in a while. Man, it's quiet."

"That's what libraries are for," I said, turning the page. "Do you need something?" It had been nearly five days after the incident with his friends and we hadn't conversed at all. Occasionally Alfred would chance a peek at me, but other than that, we really went back into old patterns.

"I just wanted to say thanks again for the ride," Alfred said, blue eyes still shining even in the dully lit room.

"You're welcome."

Alfred clacked his teeth distractedly against each other before scratching at his head. "Sure, sure. So I wanted to ask if you liked burgers."

I slowly lowered the book from my vision and stared at Alfred for a moment. "Why?" I finally asked. He fidgeted some more.

"You know, to properly pay you back and stuff. I was gonna buy you a burger or something after school, if you want."

"I've never eaten a burger," I explained, hoping this would suffice. Alfred's reaction was far beyond overdramatic.

He sat up in his chair and placed his palms flat against the table, a look of pure shock etched on his features. "You _what_!" he exclaimed.

Heads snapped over in our direction and I looked around at the many faces quickly, heart leaping from such a loud sound.

"Shhh!" shushed the school librarian angrily. I hunkered down and nodded as Alfred covered his mouth and sank back down in his chair.

"I mean, you _what_?" he asked in a whisper. I rolled my eyes.

"I've never had a hamburger. Is that really such a shock to you?"

He looked at me like I was an alien from outer space. "Duh. It's, like, the best food in the world. How the hell could you not have eaten a burger? Seriously, are you from mars or something?"

I took offense and snapped my book shut. "It is not a big deal."

"Is so."

"Is not."

"It is!"

The librarian smacked a book against her desk and hissed. "_Shhh_!"

I frowned at being reprimanded for Alfred's inefficient vocal chords. I rubbed at my temple to alleviate the pressure building there. Now I remembered why I disliked Alfred to begin with. I had somehow gotten used to the quiet, sort of withdrawn Alfred. I forgot how loud the regular Alfred was. "Please, be quiet."

"Sorry, sorry. So you gonna let me pay you back?" he asked.

I started packing my things away and stood up. "I'm going to have to decline. It really is a nice gesture, but it's not necessary. What I did, I did of my own free will. I don't expect a repayment."

Before I could even get three feet from the table, Alfred's hand was gripping at my elbow. I looked down at it before up at him. He stuttered and shied away, apologizing. I rubbed at my elbow before frowning.

"I'll feel better, though," he said.

"About what?" I asked, crossing my arms. He looked up under the hem of his cornflower bangs and pulled his lips in a tight, thin line.

At that moment I wanted to rip my hair out in frustration. I already knew what about. Why the bloody hell did he have to be so- ugghhh. Gritting my teeth, I cracked my neck and blew a puff of air from my lips. Being nice twice in a row to the same person. I can't say I've ever gone out of my way to do it before, but I did it now.

"One meal," I reluctantly agreed to. Alfred instantly sprung to life again, looking surprised.

"Really?"

"But that's it. No more debts to repay," I explained before taking my leave, uncaring if the librarian yelled at Alfred when he got too excited and bumped his knee against the table with a holler.

By the time history class had arrived, Alfred had gone back to chatting with his regular friends. I would look up at him a couple of times, and the moments where our eyes met, he would smile at me. I didn't know what to think about his behavior. Perhaps he was just feeling obligated to return a favor of kindness. People like Alfred didn't usually go out of their way to notice every little thing with their classmates, let alone do something about it.

My mind flashed back to that small glimpse of bandage that I'd seen on his wrist.

… Maybe Alfred didn't fit the category of what I'd placed him into.

When the bell rang and everyone gathered their things to leave, Alfred returned to his desk and slung his backpack over his shoulder, eyes looking down at me with patience. I looked at him for a second before bypassing him.

"What?"

Alfred caught up in no time as we made our way outside. "You know what."

"No, I don't believe I do."

Alfred furrowed his brow and bit at his cheek. "Uh, I was gonna buy you a burger today."

"Oh, you meant you wanted to do that today?" I asked, just thinking that Alfred had intended to forget about it, or buy me a meal some other day. We made our way down the steps when Alfred sped up to get my attention.

"Well, yeah. Why else would I have brought it up in the library today if I didn't want to do that today?"

I opened my mouth to respond (I wasn't sure with what), when a voice called out behind me. I shifted to see over my shoulder as Alfred's group of football and cheerleader buddies were standing by the steps and waving. I turned back to Alfred, who was looking at them with a sense of hesitance.

"It looks like you're busy," I said matter-of-factly. He pursed his lips in a small bout of annoyance.

"Wait here a minute, 'kay?"

I watched him with confusion as he maneuvered around me to jog up to his friends. From the spot I was at I couldn't hear what they were saying, but whatever Alfred was telling them made all of them look at me simultaneously. I shifted my feet awkwardly under the gaze of so many "important" people, before Alfred patted his friend's shoulder, who nodded and did the same. They waved and became immersed in their own little world again as Alfred broke off and came back up to me.

He smiled and began walking again towards the parking lot. "You ready for a taste sensation?" he asked jokingly. I followed after him cautiously, chancing one more glance over my shoulder at his friends.

"You blew them off?"

He fidgeted with his jacket sleeve and looked up at the distant sky. "It's not like I made any plans to begin with. They'll get over it. I'm heading over to Josh's house later anyway."

I didn't recognize the name of his friend but assumed it was one of the boys by the steps. As we entered the parking lot, Alfred looked a little sheepish down at me. "Uh- do you think you could drive? I don't have a car with me."

I knew for a fact that Alfred drove one of those gas guzzling red trucks that made a tremendous amount of noise. I almost was going to ask about it when deciding against it. The look on Alfred's face made me feel like I shouldn't be prying. I sighed and nodded, making a beeline for my car when someone else called out.

I felt a trickle of irritation prick at me when I turned to look at Alfred expectantly. I had forgotten how popular he was. But when I noticed a boy with a similar face pulling up in his car, I could tell that this wasn't one of Alfred's friends. Alfred gulped and frowned when the car stopped right next to him, the more timid boy looking displeased.

"What are you doing, Al?"

Alfred let out a heavy breath but plastered on a smile. "Mattie, you can go home without me. I'll be back in an hour."

Ah. I remembered something somewhat familiar when looking over the boy's upset face now. I think I had a class last semester with Alfred's quiet twin brother. Matthew looked like he was trying to convey something important to Alfred without voicing it.

"I don't know, Al… You know what mom said–"

"Don't worry about it. I'm just going to get–"

"Alfred."

Alfred flinched at the tone of his brother's voice, will crumbling under the worried stare of Matthew. I could feel the air getting thicker with something indiscernible as I glanced between the two.

"Get in the car and I'll take you home. Dad said he had something for us to do after school," Matthew explained, glancing at me awkwardly when he noticed my presence. It wasn't hard to sense the discomfort radiating off of Alfred from this unforeseen circumstance, so I went out of my way to assist him again.

"I'm sorry for being a burden right now. Alfred was going to pick up some extra notes I had at my house for the test tomorrow. But if he needs to be home, I don't mind. I suppose we could do it later since it isn't important."

I could see a sense of guilt bubbling up inside of Matthew as he debated what to do. He looked back at Alfred, something lingering behind his eyes in a serious pleading notion towards his brother before he took the car out of park. "Just come home right after, okay?" he said, hesitance coating his words. I could tell there was something deeper behind this conversation than I cared to find out.

Alfred smiled reassuringly and stuck his thumb up. "You can count on me."

Matthew paused, wondering if he could believe Alfred, before he looked away and drove out of the parking lot. I opened my car door and slid inside, waiting for Alfred to do the same.

"We don't have a test tomorrow," Alfred said with a smile. I smiled slightly as well and started the car, pushing Matthew's unsure face from my mind. For some odd reason, I felt a little guilty myself for aiding in Alfred's distance from his family.

"Let's make this quick, then, shall we?" I said, leaving the parking lot for the closest eating establishment near the school. Unfortunately for me, the place was packed with other students consuming the most repulsing food I'd ever seen in my life. I wearily eyed the chatter and greasy food around me when Alfred returned to our booth with two trays. I winced at the smell of the meat sandwich so close to my face and looked up at Alfred's grinning face.

"Eat up," he assured and took an impossibly large bite of his burger, the juices pooling out of the bottom. I nearly felt bile rise up my throat.

Coming to terms with this as my punishment for probably getting Alfred's brother in trouble with his parents, I picked up the heavy burger and took a small bite. Surprisingly it wasn't completely repulsing. I washed it down with the drink from the drink dispenser and noticed a few eyes lingering on our table.

After a small bout of silence, I spoke up curiously. "Is it really that strange?" I asked.

Alfred blinked at me and swallowed a large bite of his meal, tilting his head, not understanding. "Hm? What's strange?"

I cast him a knowing look with an amused smirk, bobbing my head in the direction of the general public. Alfred's vision followed mine and he tensed when seeing at least four pairs of eyes on us. So, he really was unaware of his surroundings. "You mean people?" he asked.

I shrugged and poked in boredom at my burger. "Someone like you and someone like me having one meal together," I elaborated.

He furrowed his brow and slurped an ungodly sound from his soda. "What do you mean someone like me and you?"

"You're not that ignorant, Alfred," I said, not really wanting to pretend to cast a blind eye.

"Ignorant of what?"

I frowned and sighed. Alfred tended to make me do that apparently. "You are the school's pride and joy, top athlete, handsome, and charismatic golden boy. Until now nobody, including me, has ever seen someone like you going out of your way to hang out with someone like me."

It seemed it was Alfred's turn to frown. "What? Someone who's smart and nice?" He scoffed and rolled his shoulder as if to dismiss the idea. Even though Alfred looked annoyed, I could see that his self-consciousness was starting to rise above the irritation. He continuously glanced in paranoia towards the other booths. "I don't like when people label others like that," he said so very quietly.

"You didn't seem to mind it before," I said offhandedly, making Alfred shoot his vision towards me in surprise. He was quiet for a moment, frown pulling at his lips while he squirmed in his seat and stared at the table as if he wished to burn a hole in it.

"You might be real smart, Arthur, but you don't know everything," he muttered.

I took a long sip from my beverage. Well, I guess he could be right about that. I obviously didn't know as much as I thought I had previously had. Alfred's mysterious disappearance seemed to be proof enough.

"Alfred," I spoke, that sour expression dissolving from his face as he looked up at me, cheeks full of beef and bread products. I almost laughed at his humorous expression, but settled for taking a mental photograph. "How're you doing?"

He glanced around as if to see how he was supposed to respond to such a random question. "Good?"

I smiled and shook my head, leaning back in the booth. I gestured towards some of the more popular people glancing at Alfred and laughing. "I meant with the rumors going around."

He visibly gulped, senses jarring under the question. Maybe it was the strong stare I had focused onto him that was making Alfred look so stiff, or maybe it was just the implication my question held. Either way, I figured that if I was going to continue helping Alfred out with his friends and brother, then I needed some sort of explanation.

"They've changed slightly since the last time I spoke with you," I muttered, placing my chin in my palm. "People are saying now that I was the one who helped your mum break into your bathroom, and that I gave you blood for your blood transfusions." It was a little funny, I had to admit. "I was just wondering what you were thinking about them," I said honestly.

Alfred swallowed, relaxing a little when hearing me explain. He sat up and rubbed at his head awkwardly. "I dunno. People… say some stupid things without knowing what they're talking about, I guess."

I nodded, humming in the back of my throat as I shut my eyes with a smile. "You can say that again."

Alfred laughed and changed the subject. All the while he wasn't aware that every time he ran his fingers through his hair in that same habit I'd noticed he kept, his sleeve pulled back to reveal a mysterious white cloth beneath his jacket. I didn't tell him, though. I guess I just knew that if I told him, Alfred would become even more withdrawn and paranoid than he seemed to be when returning to school.

And it took a little while to notice, but those helpless looks befalling Alfred's face bothered me. They didn't suit him one bit.

* * *

It was a very strange feeling when Alfred continued to seek out my company at school. It started out as him saying hello every day before history class started. He usually got that out of the way early before he pranced away to his regular group of friends. But as the days piled up, Alfred began to say more things to me than just hello. He would soon start having conversations with me and didn't go talk to his football friends like he used to. They noticed this as well and began to tease him more often, making Alfred try and laugh it off in an unconvincing manner.

I grew accustomed to Alfred's presence after two weeks and even began to look forward to our conversations in class quite a bit. He was a mystery. One moment he would be cheerful and happy, and then the next he wouldn't want to talk to me anymore and seem distracted by his regular group of buddies.

It was only when Alfred had started to try and hangout occasionally outside of school that the student body began to notice Alfred a bit more.

It was the weekend, and I stood by the steps of the school waiting for Alfred, who was finishing up a quiz he didn't study for (surprising). He had asked me to try skateboarding when he found out that I'd never set foot on one before. I refused, but after badgering me all period, I gave in. It was only the third time we would see each other outside of the school (if you counted that first car ride and the meal at the burger joint).

I tapped my foot against the cement and folded my arms impatiently. If he didn't show up in the next ten seconds I was going to leave. My attention was brought to a large individual behind me when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I looked up at a tall brunette boy who I vaguely recognized as one of Alfred's friends. He was giving me a strange look.

"Hey. You're that dweeb Alfred's been chillin' with recently, huh?" he asked casually.

I frowned at the reference. "If you count sitting next to each other in class as _chillin',_ then I suppose so. Why?"

"Listen," he said, leaning in as he balanced against the stone walls beside the staircase. I eyed him cautiously and leaned back when I could smell the cigarettes on his breath. "I don't really know why Alfred started taking a liking to you. Maybe it was because you helped save his life after he went a little nuts and carved himself up with an ice pick. I don't know."

"Is there a point to this?" I asked, feeling my lips pulling down at the corners when crudely referencing to something so mean about a friend.

The boy grinned. "Yeah. My point is that no matter how much we ask, Al won't tell us what's wrong. I was thinking that you'd know something about why he's acting so weird."

"Well, I don't."

"See, now I don't believe that," he said, standing up taller as if to frighten me. He looped his arm around my shoulder in what was probably supposed to be a friendly gesture. "You look like a smart guy. I know if Alfred is your friend too at all, you'd want to tell others how to help. Power in numbers and shit like that. I'm just sayin' that if you know something, you better tell us."

I narrowed my eyes at his "persuasive" face, worming my way out of his hold. I didn't know if that was a threat directed towards me or Alfred, but I didn't get a chance to ask. He quickly ruffled my hair with his over-calloused hand and strolled away.

"I hope to hear from you soon, Harry Potter!" he waved over his shoulder.

I growled and flipped him off, very much wishing that I didn't have to live in this stupid country. "When I graduate, so help me God, I'm moving back to England."

"Who's moving to England?"

I jumped and turned to see Alfred smiling down at me as he walked down the stone steps. I let myself cool down for a moment before I shrugged indifferently. "Nobody. Are you finally ready? I was about to leave."

Alfred laughed, the sound coming out in thick chunks that tickled my ears before he patted my shoulder. "Yeah, yeah. Keep your pants on. Are you that eager to eat it on the cement? Although, I guess you don't really have anything to worry about. It's not like your teeth can get any worse than they are now–"

I swatted at him as he continued to laugh and jump away. "Oh, come on. You saw that coming."

"Not all British people have fucked up teeth," I argued. Alfred offered a haughty smile.

"I've yet to be proven wrong."

Another swat and Alfred was running towards my car with chuckles. As I approached, I wondered when Alfred had become accustomed to the idea of trying to mooch rides from me. I wasn't sure if the thought made me comfortable or otherwise. I unlocked my door and let Alfred inside and we drove the fifteen minutes to his house on the hill, pulling up to the curb outside of the large but quaint looking house. Alfred turned to me and unbuckled his seatbelt with a small smile.

"I'll be back in a minute."

I sat back and waited as Alfred went up his driveway and opened the door by the handle. He scurried around his garage piled with boxes all over the place. I noticed Alfred's red truck parked in the driveway and furrowed my brow at this. If Alfred had a car, it only made sense for him to drive it.

I looked out my window when I heard another engine passing me by and made eye contact with Alfred's brother, who looked absolutely confused at my presence. I hunkered down in my seat, that guilty feeling rising up again as Matthew parked outside of their fence. He exited his car and made his way towards Alfred, who looked like he had just found gold when he pulled out an old skateboard. When Alfred's blue eyes turned to his brother, he froze.

Again, because I was so far away I couldn't hear exactly what they were saying, but it didn't look pleasant. Alfred's mouth was going a mile a minute as he frowned at his brother that was pointing towards the house. The situation just got that much worse when Alfred's mother came out, looking between her two sons with confusion.

I had absolutely no idea what Alfred was saying when he pointed towards me, making both Matthew and his mother crane their necks to look in my direction. I waved awkwardly.

After a few more moments of Alfred arguing with his mother and brother, he pushed passed them and hopped into my car. I blinked stupidly at him and opened my mouth to say something when he beat me to it.

"Drive."

"Alfred, I don't think–"

"Just go! It's fine," he assured me, though his face didn't look reassuring. With one last glance over Alfred's shoulder at his astounded mother and unhappy looking brother, I pulled out and drove back down the hill. After a minute I glanced at Alfred, the skateboard held tightly to his chest.

"Should we drive out of the country now and change our names?"

Alfred snorted, some of the anger on his face dissipating. "No. It's not that bad. Mom just doesn't want me out after school today. There're a lot of chores to do," he explained. And though Alfred seemed to choke on the word 'chores', I ignored it and continued driving until we reached a smaller hill of cement.

Alfred clambered out of the car eagerly, completely brushing off the incident that occurred in his front yard just moments ago, and propped his skateboard against the sidewalk. As I shut my door, I watched him wearily as he stuck his leg out like a paddle on a boat and began picking up speed. He looked almost so natural riding that board as he steered it gracefully towards me.

He smiled at me and stopped. "You want to give it a try?"

"No," came my definite answer.

He laughed and propped the board up to grab it with his hand. "I thought that's why we picked this thing up today."

"I'm not getting on that," I said firmly. Now that we were on the hill, I felt uncomfortable. I could feel my hands sweating at the thought of getting on the skateboard. Alfred made it look too easy. There was no way steering that blasted board could be easy.

Alfred pulled his vibrating cell phone out of his pocket to click it off with indifference before looking at me gently. Well, gently and a little bit smugly. "I'll teach you."

I remained silent, eyeing the skateboard carefully.

"It's not that hard, Arthur. I've been doing it for years. You'll pick it up in no time, promise."

With my throat tightening in apprehension, I could only nod at him slowly. Alfred moved close to me and I became engulfed in the cloud that was his scent. He set the board in front of me and smiled at me expectantly. "Get on it."

I felt my stomach coil before shooting Alfred an uncomfortable expression and placing my foot against it. He tapped at my other foot with his own. "It's not rocket science. Just slowly push yourself with this leg."

Alfred trotted back ten feet before turning around and patting at his knees. "Now come here," he encouraged.

I scowled at him with a huff. "I'm not a dog, you git." He simply chuckled at that, which made me irritated and somehow more confident. I firmly planted my foot against the cement and pushed forward. My newfound confidence quickly faded when I pushed too hard and nearly lost my balance. In the blink of an eye, Alfred had his hands clasping onto mine in an instant, his smiling face breaching my vision.

"That was good for a first try," he said, and I felt a tingle deep down in my chest. I looked down at our connected hands and felt a little too overwhelmed with both Alfred so close and his thick smell. Quickly shaking off his hands, I tried again and began slowly and wobbly making my way in small circles.

Alfred moved back and watched as I began to get the hang of this stupid board. "There you go. I guess you can do something athletic."

I smirked at him and nearly fell off the board, planting my other foot against the cement quickly. "I used to do fencing in England, you meathead."

He grinned, making two indents of dimples appear on his tanned cheeks. "Fencing?" He whistled in mock impression. "You pegged me as a doily kinda guy."

"I knit those, too," I said casually, getting used to the feeling of motion on wheels. I didn't want to brag or anything, but I was pretty bloody good. For a beginner, I meant.

Alfred and I talked about everything ranging from sports to homework to life growing up. I realized that I had judged Alfred too quickly. He wasn't just some self-absorbed popular jock who was on a higher pedestal than his peers. He was someone who loved animals and helped out at the local shelter in his spare time. He preferred baseball over football, but was already in too deep to get out of playing the rough sport, he said. He believed in aliens and felt like people thought he was a dork for getting glasses his freshman year.

Who knew all it took was two hours on a wobbly board to start understanding the cheerful boy sitting on the curb in the sunset.

I watched him carefully as he told some story about switching places with his twin for April Fools Day to see who would believe it when I felt it. Yes, _it_.

That moment when people realize there is something wrong with the current situation. No, mine wasn't the peculiar feeling settling deep down in my stomach as Alfred's face and hair were painted with a pallet of reds and oranges. My 'it' feeling was when the world started to spin just a little too fast.

I turned my head curiously before my heart leapt out of my throat and my eyes bulged. I knew it was a bad idea to do this on a hill. Screw Alfred. I didn't care if he was more than I used to think he was. He wasn't invited to my funeral when this killed me.

"A… Al – Hey – Al-_Alfred_!" I shouted, trying to get him to shut up from a story I no longer cared about. He glanced up at me in curiosity before his features mirrored mine. I would've thought his face looked comical if I hadn't been picking up speed down the hill. Alfred sprung up from his seat and made his way towards me as fast as he could.

I couldn't see anything else as I was forced to turn my face and get a wave of wind pushing back against my cheeks as I flew down the hill. Colors blurred and I could distantly hear Alfred cussing like a sailor. My life flew by my eyes in a moment and I wanted to laugh at how short and dull it was.

An old house on a crowded street in England.

Top grades in class but only a handful of friends.

Sewing and cooking lessons that seemed to be a waste of time.

The move to America.

I nearly fell asleep watching it. I realized then that my life was painfully dull. No wonder I had lacking interest in almost everything I did. A bright face flashed before my eyes and it took a moment for me to comprehend it was Alfred. Alfred grinning at me and scribbling doodles on his papers and his cheeks filled to the brim with burgers and laughter and jokes.

Alfred, huh? Hm. It seemed Alfred was the only interesting in my life right now. I didn't know whether to feel depressed or overjoyed.

I didn't have much time to consider it before something quick and strong wrapped like a boomerang around my abdomen and knocked the wind out of me. I was ripped away from the skateboard as it swerved out of control and landed painfully loud in the gutter when I landed on the corner of the cement.

A sharp pain traveled up my spine as it hit the curb of the sidewalk and I dropped my head back. I lay there for a while just staring up at the orange sky, waves of pain rippling down my back to my ankle. Oh, it was blinding pain. Fuck skateboards. Who the fuck liked doing this, anyway? Oh yeah. Fucking _crazy_ people.

The warmth at my side started to move away and I craned my neck to see a head of blonde hair and brown jacket shaking in an attempt to sit up. It clicked just then and I began to force my spine not to snap in half as I sat up.

"Is my skateboard fine?" he asked and rubbed at his head.

I scowled in disbelief before spitting in the direction of that damned skateboard. "That's the first thing you think of? What about my bloody _spine_? I think I'm paraplegic now," I groaned and rubbed at my back that was sure to get a large bruise later.

Alfred plopped his butt against the cement and finally looked at me, making my eyes widen. He sighed. "Well, then I guess it's a good thing you were learning how to skateboard. Now you have practice for your wheelchair," he joked weakly. I guess Alfred had landed on his face or something because his glasses were broken and there was blood in his hair and on his cheek. Wait, was that blood from his face or from his arm? Ah, bollocks.

"Alfred, I think you need to–"

"No. No, no, no, _no_, Arthur. Just – no," Alfred blurted, shaking his head before I could even say anything. Whatever I was going to suggest it seemed that he would hear none of it. Despite the horrible bruising pain in my back, I seemed to focus more on the struggling expression that was bestowing Alfred's face. His nose crinkled as his eyes glistened over with water when he wiped at his wet cheek by his bloodied hair.

Wide eyes became larger when he pulled his hand away and saw the blood.

"Aw, m-my mom's gonna kill me," he choked, rubbing violently at his face. I gulped and maneuvered to place my hands against his shoulders. He tried not to look at me as he frowned at the cement.

"No, it was my fault."

"How the hell is it your fault? You can't skateboard, Arthur," he argued, now frowning at me. I leaned back against my calves and figured we looked like a messy pair of idiots. Thankfully there were no cars driving by to see this.

"Let me drive you back home so you can at least wipe your face off," I offered as gently as possible. Alfred tried to get away from me, very much disliking my idea.

"What part of 'my mom's gonna kill me' don't you understand?" he asked breathlessly. "Jeez. This is what I get for thinking I can still do this," he grumbled to himself but I overheard. With an uncertain frown, I got to my feet and hobbled my way over to grab Alfred's chipped skateboard and walked back up to him. He watched me with a blurry vision, most likely from his cracked glasses. I extended my hand out and waited as Alfred stared at it for a long time before grasping it. I helped him to his feet and led him back to my car.

We awkwardly got inside and threw the skateboard into the backseat, and as I pulled away from the curb and painfully made my way towards my house, Alfred's antsy demeanor returned. He blinked as blood dribbled into his eye and looked towards me nervously.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

I heaved a breath and turned just as the streetlights began to click on. "Don't worry about it."

He paused with a hitched breath, eyes darting towards the turn where his house would be. "Arthur–"

"Trust me for once, Alfred."

He looked back at me and bit his lip. We smoothly passed his street and I could feel the tension fading from Alfred's muscles. He sat back against the seat and held his jacket sleeve to his forehead. I continued to drive and for once Alfred continued to stay quiet. It was only when we pulled into my driveway when darkness consumed the streets and houses that Alfred sat up curiously.

"Where are we?" he asked.

I opened my door and shut it, blandly. "My home."

I just assumed that I was doing good deed number three and cleaning up Alfred's cuts and bruises from his heroic rescue attempt. I never knew that by allowing Alfred into my house that it would change everything. It would later be a reoccurring event for Alfred to come over in the future. It would be a different atmosphere that would make us become very close friends. But most importantly, this was the place where that dreary rumor would unravel itself for me to know the truth, and unfortunately, I would be sucked into more than just Alfred's supposed suicide attempt.

Everything would change.

Well… if things weren't already changed from that sunset hilltop with the smiling blonde laughing for me. What a painful and thrilling thing Alfred was doing to me. It almost left me with a stomach full of dread and a feeling that left me breathless.


	2. Chapter 2

_I wish that I could fly._

_Way up in the sky._

_Like a bird so high._

_Oh, I might just try. Oh, I might just try._

- Hollywood Undead, Bullet

* * *

I knew that I should've listened to Alfred after cleaning his face of all the blood when he said it probably wasn't a good idea to take him home. I had told him that his family would most likely be more worried if he didn't show up at all, and after some awkward persuasion and a few ice packs for my back, I convinced him to get back into my car and let me drive him there.

Needless to say that I felt horribly terrible when standing on his front doorstep in the porch light when Alfred's mother opened the door and saw her son's scraped face. The first reason why I felt horrible was very obvious when Alfred's mom burst into tears and hugged him tightly to her, even though he stood as unresponsive as a tree. The second reason for the bad feeling festering in my chest was because this felt like a personal moment, a moment I didn't have the right to witness.

"This is why," Alfred's mom sobbed, burying her face in her son's neck. "Why, Alfred? Why?" she simply asked as her knees gave out. Alfred stumbled a bit, but managed to keep his mom standing, though she looked about ready to fall into pieces.

I bit my tongue awkwardly when Matthew and his father came into view in the living room, both watching with oddly distant eyes. I didn't know what expression Alfred was making at them, but whatever it was, it made his father frown and walk out of the room.

Alfred placed his hands at his mother's sides when she hiccupped and shook with remnants of her cries. "It was an accident," he clarified quietly. His mother looked up when the word left his mouth, eyes wide and disbelieving before her face contorted into another wave of anguish. She buried her face in her hands and leaned against her son's chest.

"Don't say that, Alfred. Don't you say that to me again."

Overall, I'd say it was the worst experience of my life. And I'd been groped by a drunk homeless woman outside of a pub on New Years before.

Matthew stepped forward and tried to detangle his mother from Alfred's hold, guiding her back into the house. He looked back at Alfred with a timid frown of discontent, which made something disheartening travel up Alfred's face.

"No more, Alfred," he muttered before taking his mother into the kitchen.

Alfred stood uncomfortably under the light of his porch as the moths danced around the lamp above his head. I thought for a moment that he had forgotten that I was still there, and only snapped out of this reverie when he turned slowly to smile a heavy smile at me. I didn't know what to say with such a depressing smile cast in my direction. Perhaps it wasn't depressing, exactly. It surely was apologetic, as if Alfred felt bad for even letting me witness such a brief and confusing event.

"She's so overprotective," he said. Despite Alfred attempting to laugh, his voice sounded devoid of any essence of authentic, and even fake, humor.

Alfred stuffed his hands in his pockets and blew a large breath from his lungs in exhaustion as he stared out into his court. "I'm sorry, man. I didn't know today would be so…"

"Shitty?" I offered helpfully, though I thought it wasn't anything close to that word. Alfred snorted and nodded.

"Sounds about right." He peered at me from the side of his eye and smiled. "Thanks for driving today. You probably won't have to do it anymore, so…" He scratched his head before awkwardly reaching out and patting my shoulder. He turned to go inside. "See ya later, Arthur."

When Alfred moved away from me, I felt something odd twinge in my chest. I didn't know why, but at that moment in time, I knew that if he went into his house, everything would change again. He would go back to being that withdrawn shell of himself after returning to school, or he would morph back into his shining exceptional self when he was flooded by outgoing individuals, never people like… well, people like me. The flicker of distress was gone before I could fully understand it, leaving me feeling the same as I always had towards Alfred.

"Wait," I started, catching Alfred's attention before the door was shut all the way. He looked at me curiously when I fished his broken glasses out from my pocket and handed it to him. He blinked down at it before fully registering what it was. With a lopsided smile, Alfred laughed.

"Useless now," he muttered before shutting his door.

I knew he was referring to the busted lenses of his glasses, but for some reason I got the smallest inkling that he was alluding to something else.

* * *

Skateboarding really wasn't my forte. And apparently, Alfred was the one suffering from my lack of coordination skills. On Monday when returning to school, the rumor mill started to spew out more garbage, this time focusing on the bandages on the side of Alfred's face and his sprained wrist. It left me feeling somewhat responsible when whispers of gossip behind me in class reached my ears.

Apparently Alfred was still "coping" with his first suicide attempt, and harming himself in minor ways was the only way he could survive.

Working on schoolwork was quite hard when students who knew absolutely _nothing_ about nothing made up stories about Alfred.

"He was drunk at Gilbert's party this weekend and fell down the stairs. My boyfriend saw him," a girl chirped quietly in excitement to her friend across the classroom. I narrowed my eyes distastefully towards those harpies, quickly shooting a somewhat worried look towards Alfred, who didn't look like he had heard them. I mentally sighed and silently wondered how Alfred could ignore all of his peers.

When the bell rang after a dull and unproductive class, I found myself catching up to Alfred. He looked down at me in surprise before mustering a smile.

"Hey, Arthur," he greeted.

I pulled at my bag before looking ahead to appear distracted. "Does your face still hurt?"

He placed a hand gently to the bandages by his ear and laughed. "What, these? Nah. I really didn't notice them until you mentioned it."

I wanted to frown at the obvious lies he was spouting. Of course Alfred had to have thought something about it. He wasn't as oblivious of everyone's opinions of him as he wanted to be. "That's good, then. Would you– Are you busy?" I asked, throat constricting a little bit. Why the hell was I nervous all of the sudden? I thought that it was probably because all our interactions were because of Alfred. I had never gone out of my way to hang out with him. Rescue him, yes. Hang out with him, no.

"What do you mean?" he asked. I made to explain myself when another yell beat me to it. I huffed to myself as a few boisterous students ran by Alfred and waved.

"Hey, Al! We're goin' to shoot some hoops at Marnie's house. Wanna come?"

Alfred smiled but waved them away. "Can't. I have things to do today."

A cheerleader patted his scraped cheek before she passed him, her pink lips curled in a joking smile as she joined the group. "Making yourself bleed isn't a good hobby. Substitute it with something fun like basketball, Alfred."

His smile went down a few notches, but Alfred resiliently forced another laugh. "You guys suck! I'm serious."

They laughed good-heartedly and filtered out the hall. "Alright, alright. Another time, then."

When Alfred's friends were out of view, he looked down at me. Alfred flinched for a moment in confusion, noticing for the first time the deep scowl I shot in the direction they left from. He tilted his head to the side and raised his eyebrows. "Uh. Arthur?"

I snapped out of the humorless anger I had at Alfred's friends before turning to him calmly. "So you are busy." It was a statement, not a question. Hm. Why did I feel a little disappointed?

Alfred smiled and shifted his feet, continuing down the school's steps, myself in tow. "Not really… But my mom wants me home after school from now on. She freaked after the skateboard incident. It's not a big deal, I guess. I just-" he paused as if considering his words carefully. He smiled at me and for a moment I could see a glimpse of something dreadful in the back of Alfred's eyes. "I want to do everything I can for her while I'm able. She deserves it after all she's been through."

I frowned at him, wanting – wishing – I knew what to say. Dear Lord in Heaven, did I want to mention my questions about his absence. And if it hadn't been for Matthew's blaring horn, I probably would have. We both looked out into the streets to see Matthew looking over at his brother and me, waiting impatiently for Alfred to understand and get in the car.

Alfred sighed heavily before he patted my shoulder. I looked at where his hand was connected to me for a brief moment until he pulled it away with his usual smile. "Ugh. It's my chauffeur. Maybe some other time, Arthur."

I nodded heavily and watched as Alfred hauled himself into his brother's car, giving one last wave before he drifted into the street with a dozen other vehicles. I let out a breath in my chest before looking for my own car.

So much for another skating lesson.

* * *

Strangely, after a week, Alfred slipped back into old habits. We didn't converse much anymore, and he went back to spending more time with his boneheaded friends. I didn't attempt to ask to spend another day with him, because my confidence had been shot down from the last time. Besides, Alfred's parents made it very clear that he could go nowhere after school.

On the dot, Matthew would show up with his car when Alfred was about to consider going off with his buddies and smush that idea into the ground. No one was able to get close to Alfred, and at this rate, no one ever would be able to.

After nearly two weeks, I almost let my mind drift completely away from Alfred, until out of the blue he approached me after school.

"Wanna come over today?"

I could only manage to look at him as if a tarantula had laid eggs on his face. "Pardon?"

Alfred smiled at me and motioned back to where his brother sat patiently in the car, looking at us in confusion. I raised an eyebrow at Alfred when he seemed unnaturally excited for such a basic question. "I said, did you wanna hang at my house today? If you're not busy, I mean," he added, fidgeting as nervously as I had before.

I took another hesitant glance over Alfred's shoulder at his brother, intent on telling him that I had some errands to run. "Alright."

Wait. That wasn't what I was going to say.

Alfred's eyes lit up instantly, a grin peeling back his lips as he pulled at my arm. "Cool! Come on. Matt's had the car running for a while."

I stumbled and followed after Alfred, glancing around in his contagious paranoia. Some people noticed us and paused, surely taking into account that I was the other boy in the rumors concerning Alfred. I sighed with annoyance. Great. Now what could they concoct in their minds to tell the school about me getting in a car with Alfred? I didn't want to find out.

Matthew looked absolutely perplexed when he saw me awkwardly moving in the back seat. Alfred nearly broke my leg when he pushed me over, shoving at me to sit down. He shut the door and motioned for his brother to drive. Matthew only stared, eyes darting from me to his brother.

"What's he doing here?" he asked. I tried not to take offense at the way he mentioned me, surely affiliating me with Alfred's injured face that was now almost healed.

"He's helping me with my math," Alfred said.

"You're not in math class…" Matthew muttered.

"Well, yeah. I'm getting a head start for college and junk."

Matthew didn't look very happy with the situation. He just frowned at his brother in subdued concern. Alfred raised his eyebrows and motioned with a sweeping gesture of both his hands. "Are you gonna sit there starin' at me all day, or are you gonna take us home? Dad and mom won't be happy if you're late, Matthew."

With a great deal of reluctance, Matthew turned around, mumbling something under his breath in fluent French before he took the car out of park and started driving.

The ride to Alfred's house was most certainly uncomfortable. Taking in the fact that Alfred's family life was most assuredly strained, it didn't make it any better that he was inviting some stranger over, whom he hadn't talked to in weeks. Oh, why did I agree to this again?

I looked out the window when Matthew pulled into his driveway, the engine finally giving one last rumble before it shut off. He removed his keys and silently made his way out of the car and up to the house. Alfred hopped out and made a strange face at his brother's back before smiling reassuringly at him. It only occurred to me when I followed Alfred up to his porch that I was probably going to have to ride back home with Matthew alone.

Spindles of wiggling threads that were my nerves coiled around my stomach. I wasn't going to look forward to that uncomfortable drive.

Alfred opened his door and threw his backpack on the ground ungracefully under the archway. He ventured to find his room, gesturing quickly for me to follow. I took one step before the smell of Alfred's cologne was reduced to nothing under the stench of strong, but lovely perfume. Alfred's mother appeared out of the kitchen, looking in surprise between the two of us.

Alfred frowned. "Tattletale," he grumbled, most likely referencing his brother who had disappeared.

Mrs. Jones ran her hands quickly down her rumpled dress and smiled in confusion at me. "Oh… Oh, you're– you're one of Alfred's friends, aren't you? The boy with the," she strained her smile at me, it looking horribly fake as she stressed to finish her sentence, "skateboard."

I nodded, though I wasn't sure if Alfred and I were truly recognized as friends. "Nice to meet you, ma'am. Alfred has only had good things to say about you."

She clutched gingerly at her necklace, obviously not expecting that. But when her eyes darted to her son, it wasn't that of a surprised but proud mother. Her gaze held a worry that was reflected in Alfred's changed posture. He shrugged with a smile, making her look back at me.

"What is your name again?" she asked delicately.

"Arthur Kirkland. I'm sorry for any trouble I've–"

"No, no, no," she interrupted. "It's no trouble. All of Alfred's friends are welcome in our home. It's just a bit of a surprise. I didn't know that Alfred was bringing anyone over today or I would have straightened up a bit," she said. Though a smile was on her face, her voice was definitely made to make a jab at Alfred. "Please, make yourself at home. Would you boys like a snack or something?"

"No, mom. We're fine," Alfred said, wanting nothing more than to just go to his room. His mother smiled, hands clasping together.

"I'll make you boys some banana bread," she announced, bounding back into the kitchen. I kept my thoughts to myself as I made my way past the kitchen and into Alfred's small room. It was a typical American boy's room. Sports posters, bed unkempt, junk about the bookshelf, and a strange smell that always lingered with teenage blokes.

"I'm allergic to bananas," I muttered.

Alfred, who was clearing a chair of dirty clothes, looked over his shoulder. "Oh, yeah? Dude, you don't have to eat it. We don't even have bananas right now," he said, voice tinted with a small wave of laughter.

I sat down on the chair and looked around when Alfred sat down on his bed. He sighed and stretched his arms over his head. I tried not to look, but couldn't help it when his jacket sleeves dipped down. I averted my eyes immediately when Alfred looked at me.

"You got your glasses fixed," I pointed out. Alfred hadn't been wearing any since the skateboarding incident. This was the first day he revealed his fixed spectacles.

He fingered them experimentally before smiling. "Yeah. I was hoping they would take longer to get fixed. Now I look dorky again," he laughed.

"You don't look bad," I said seriously. And it was true. If anything, Alfred's glasses brought out his good qualities more than put them down. He fidgeted at my compliment, fingers curling in the sheets on his mattress. I looked away. "So, why the sudden invitation?"

I could hear Alfred shifting on his bed as he made to get more comfortable. "I don't know. I just thought it would be fun… Is it not going to be fun?"

I looked at him and leaned into the padded chair behind me. "It just seems to me like you would invite one of your closer friends over," I suggested.

Alfred frowned and ran his fingers through his hair. Again, my eyes darted to his wrists. "I don't think that would be a good idea…"

"And why is that?"

Alfred's impossibly blue eyes looked at me, which quickly made my own eyes snap away from his arm. "I think you know why, Arthur," he smiled, but it was one of those fake smiles. "They'd just freak my mom out with all their jokes."

"If it's not true, then tell them to stop," I said, watching him closely. I wanted so badly for him to just laugh it off and deny this whole ordeal the school seemed so preoccupied with. I wanted Alfred to say that those white strips that looked suspiciously like bandages under his jacket were part of his shirt or something. I just wanted Alfred to stop wearing such a depressing look on his face.

And yet all I got was an awkward shift as Alfred looked away. My chest ached.

"Hey, look at that," Alfred said, eyes becoming distracted with his calendar on his wall. He hopped to his feet and pointed at it with a snort. "Prom's coming up. You got a date yet?" he asked.

With a bit of disdain, I humored him again and let the topic shift. "No, I don't believe I do. I'm not even certain if I'm going this year, actually," I said, sounding bored with the whole idea of it. Alfred perked upon hearing that and grinned.

"You have'ta go to prom, Arthur. It's like an American tradition or something."

I smiled at him sarcastically. "Ah, then I am exempt, for I am not American."

"American, English, same thing."

"They most certainly are not."

"So America's a little cooler and perfected the English language. We don't hold it against you guys for your inability to adapt to the times," he joked, knowing by now how easy I flared up at such a topic. I threw the closest thing to me (which happened to be one of his shoes) at him, which he dodged. "Don't get your knickers in a knot," he mocked with a string of chortles following it. I couldn't help but shake my head and laugh at that.

We bantered back and forth for a long while, no real harm done with our jokes about our home countries. Alfred started to show me the different things around his room, comparing them to everything he'd seen in my pristine one a few weeks ago when I cleaned his face up. He gave me a tour of his house, and when we ended up in the backyard, Alfred's mother decided to make another entrance.

"Alfred," she called from the patio doors.

Alfred looked up from his spot by his pool, trying to cut the ropes holding his pool cover on. "Yeah, mom?" he called back.

She shut the glass door behind her and made her way over to where we were standing. Alfred finally removed the last of the pool cover, revealing a large and deep blue oval. Not as blue as his eyes, but still, quite blue.

"What are you boys doing?" his mother asked with a smile, eyeing us by the side of the pool in confusion.

"Just showing Arthur the pool, mom. It's practically summer and dad still keeps this stupid thing on," Alfred said, standing up from his kneeling position and propping his hand against his waist, getting a proper look his swimming pool.

"No one uses it. Why should your father take care of it?" she asked, long lashes batting against her flawless cheeks. She looked down and noticed the razor in her son's hand, the one he used to cut away the ropes, and smiled. She peeled Alfred's fingers off of the object and cradled it gently in her hands to her chest. "You didn't need a knife to cut the ties. What if you damaged your father's pool cover?"

It was probably just me, but I had a feeling she wasn't interested in the safety of the pool protector at all.

"Did you need something, mom?" Alfred asked impatiently.

She looked towards me and hid the razor behind her back, lips puckered in a small smile. "I made lemon bars if you both are interested. We didn't have any bananas. Silly me," she giggled.

"Isn't it almost dinner time?" Alfred asked, looking displeased with his mother hovering over him like a helicopter.

"I'm just being a good hostess, Alfred. One treat will not spoil your appetite," Mrs. Jones remarked, voice as soft as freshly washed laundry sheets. "It's cooling on the counter if you both feel like having one. They're already cut, too, so you don't have to worry yourselves about slicing them up."

I mentally grimaced every time Mrs. Jones used a word like 'slice' or 'cut', Alfred obviously having a problem with her vocabulary as he winced at each word.

"It was lovely meeting you, Arthur. I hope to see you again sometime," she said, reaching out daintily to shake my hand. I shook it politely, wondering if nearly all the Jones family were as perfect and eye-catching as Alfred and his mother. Then again…

I glanced at Alfred's arms. Maybe I was wrong about the perfect part.

As Alfred's mother made her way across the lawn and back inside, I could see that Alfred's demeanor never relaxed. He stared at where his mom disappeared with an unsettling frown on his face, hands stiff at his sides. I coughed into my hand awkwardly and smiled somewhat.

"She seems like a caring mother," I commented.

Alfred looked down at me, considering my words before a forlorn smile tugged at his lips. "The best."

As we made our way into the kitchen later that afternoon, looking upon symmetrically square lemon bars on the table, I couldn't help but feel something off with this beautiful house. It was perfect in every way when it came down to the paintings and furniture and decorations. But the more I seemed to look, the more it came together, when I opened the drawers in the kitchen to look for napkins.

The Jones house had been completely removed of sharp items, silverware included.

* * *

Time was drifting faster than I possibly could have imagined. One moment I was distracted and bored in school in January, Alfred nowhere to be seen, and the next it was the end of April, summer weather starting to kick in, and Alfred and I closer than I ever imagined.

Yes, Alfred was still close with his usual gang, but somehow I felt that he and I were spending more time together on the sidelines. He still wasn't allowed outside after school, his parents keeping strict rules on their son(s), but a lot of the time I was over at Alfred's house with him.

It felt like a normal friendship. Well, for the most part until I couldn't help myself.

"Why are you wearing a jacket? It's bloody boiling out here," I said, feet dangling in Alfred's pool. We had just finished school for the week and immediately came over to Alfred's house. He suggested we go out by his pool since it was almost in the triple digits today. Not to swim, but to stick our feet in.

"_You don't have your swimsuit_," Alfred had quickly added.

I noticed Alfred's feet stop kicking for a brief moment before they started up again under the cool spell of the water. He looked up at me behind his glasses with eyes that I had somehow come to grow so fond of, his bangs sticking to his forehead from the sweat gathering there from the beating of the sun's rays.

"What are you, the fashion police?" he asked with a laugh.

I merely rocked myself sideways and flicked some water at his face. "No. Apparently I'm the 'you're going to get heatstroke' police. Honestly, you're redder than a tomato, Alfred. You're going to melt," I told him, lips pulling in a tight, thin line. Alfred wiped the water from his face with his sleeve, cheeks and nose pink from the extra heat his beat-up jacket was putting on him. Really now, he was sweating like a hog, and I wasn't sure that was healthy.

"I just like it. Is it that big of a deal?"

Alfred's voice was obviously a way he got what he wanted. Well, that and his face, of course. But he knew that I knew the distinct tones he gave by now, and the one he was giving me was a 'back off' tone. Usually I respected that, being raised to not pry into people's affairs. That was probably a great reason why Alfred and I had become such close friends so quickly. But today that growing ball of curiosity and dread was weighing too heavy on my heart. If I accidentally fell into the pool, it would surely weigh me down like and anchor and I would drown.

"I've been thinking," I muttered to myself, looking at my distorted feet under the ripples of the water. If I had become accustomed to Alfred's tones, he had surely become accustomed to mine, as well. I didn't have to look at him to see him go still. "It has been a while now, and the rumors have gone from a roar to a whisper at school. And you know I have never asked or pushed you in any way." I looked up experimentally at Alfred who was biting on his lip so hard it looked painful.

"Please don't think of me as a bad person if I am a little curious myself."

Alfred frowned and furrowed his brows, gulping, his Adam's apple bobbing at the action. "Arthur," he started heavily, pausing. "You can't–"

"I don't care either way, so why don't you tell me?" I insisted, giving him a frown of my own. I felt almost bad for the look Alfred cast me, his eyes looking so lost and trapped.

"Because it's none of your business," he said, voice stern and unyielding.

I scoffed. "None of my business how my friend is?"

"Yes." Alfred may have said it, but he didn't look like he believed it.

I tightened my fingers, not caring when they curled into my palms against his blistering cement. "Oh, so our friendship's alright if I go down a bottle of pills, as long as you don't ask me about it?"

Alfred shot me the sharpest glare I had ever been on the receiving end of, and I have had none too many nasty spats with that pompous Francis at our school before. But I think the fact that Alfred was wobbly and cherry red kind of ruined some of its intensity.

"What the fuck is your problem? I thought that stuff doesn't matter to you."

"It doesn't!" I argued. I corrected myself quickly, though. "It didn't."

Alfred swayed a little to the side and bobbed up quickly, squinting his eyes a bit. His glare faltered, and his voice cracked a little in what I presumed could be fear. "Wh-why did you change your mind all of the sudden?"

I clacked my teeth together and rubbed at my temple soothingly. What a sensitive topic. Why did I have to involve myself with people like this? It must've been true what people said about high school: you couldn't avoid the drama.

"Alfred…" I sighed, but stopped myself when I noticed that Alfred wasn't really paying attention to me anymore. His eyes became foggy as they rolled up into his head, his body slumping forward. I jumped, quickly grabbing at him before he fell into the pool, the tips of his bangs only grazing the water. "Alfred! Hey!"

I looked back towards his house and bit at my lip nervously. No way in hell did I want to shout for Matthew or Alfred's father. Alfred had it hard enough as it was, he didn't need to make his family panic more from a tiny heatstroke. With the best of my abilities, I dragged him to his feet and propped him against me, grunting at how heavy he had to be.

As carefully as I could, I made my way over to the patio and slid open the glass doors. When I peered inside the cool house, looking around for any movement and finding none, I pulled Alfred inside and quickly made my way to his room. He fell on his bed ungracefully with a soft moan, eyes shut tight as he wiped at his sweating face.

I tried to regain my breathing from the sudden exertion and went back to close the patio door, uncaring if I left wet footprints in the kitchen. I needed to cool Alfred down quickly.

When Alfred finally opened his eyes some time later, he blinked them heavily and felt for the moist object on his forehead. He pulled off the wet washcloth and stared at it a long while as if his mind wouldn't comprehend what it was for. I looked up from a book I took from his bookshelf, not even bothering to move when Alfred slowly sat up.

"Do you want some water?" I asked.

Alfred twitched, looking over at me swiftly. I guess he didn't notice anyone else in his room. He looked at me, eyes squinting around my blurry figure before he nodded. "My head feels like a fuckin' earthquake just cracked it," he groaned, flopping over and curling up very childishly against his bed.

I rolled my eyes and got up, grabbing a water bottle from his desk along the way. "Here," I said, extending my hand above him with his drink. He rolled over slowly and looked up at the drink, giving me a small smile.

"Thanks, man."

Alfred immediately froze, a blind look of horror darting onto his face when he reached his own arm out, realizing that he wasn't wearing his brown jacket anymore. His arm was bare from just above his elbow because of his white t-shirt, tanned skin exposed down to his wrist where delicately wrapped bandages circled just above his hand.

He balked, retracting his arm quickly. I didn't even bat an eyelash at his reaction. I always suspected, but I never thought I'd get actual proof. My opinion never changed of Alfred as he looked up at me, seemingly terrified. I did feel bad that he had to look at me like that, though. Like he thought I was going to make crude jokes about him like his other friends, or like I would somehow think differently of him, as if he was crazy or pathetic.

None of those things passed through my mind. I just saw Alfred.

"Don't you want this? I'm not going to rest you against my chest and let you drink from it like a baby," I said, shoving the water bottle towards him impatiently. Alfred hesitantly took it from me, watching me in confusion.

I strolled back to my seat and began to resume my reading. I turned the page and could still feel Alfred watching me intently, only making it to the next paragraph before I had to look up, Alfred still bestowing that same appearance on his bed. I raised a large eyebrow. "What?"

Alfred didn't say anything for a while. He ran his hand through his hair, messing up his stubborn cowlick. "Y-you… Why aren't you saying anything?" he asked quietly, unsurely.

"About what?"

This made Alfred frown. "Don't be a dick, Arthur."

I set my book down against my lap and shut it. "About your arms? What do you want me to say about them?" I asked honestly. Alfred still didn't stop frowning at me, teeth chewing at his lip in that endless habit. "That you're disgusting for even attempting such a thing? That you're selfish for trying to take your own life and leave your family and friends to pick up the pieces? That you committed an act of cowardice and should be shunned because you're crazy and need to be watched? What was it we were taught again? Something about a permanent solution to a temporary problem?"

My words stabbed at Alfred like knives as he flinched, throat tightening as he bit down so hard on his lip that it nearly bled. I paused, hoping to Heaven above that those weren't prickling tears forming at the sides of his eyes. I crossed my leg over the other and placed his book on the bookshelf again. "Well, I'm not going to say that, because I'd be a liar. You seem fine to me."

I suppose Alfred's brain was on extra slow today, because it took him nearly thirty seconds to understand what I had just told him. He balked, voice sounding heavy with the previous bout of emotions. "_What_?"

"Hm?" I hummed in boredom at Alfred's predictable reaction. I wish he didn't have to make such a big deal out of this. After all, I thought I had made it perfectly clear that I wouldn't judge him.

"I seem fine?" Alfred blurted, pushing away his blankets with disbelief. "I seem _fine_? How the hell can you sit there and say that, and expect me to _believe_ it? How the fuck is this fine, Arthur? You tell me how this is _'fine_'!" he argued with a glower, holding up his bandaged arm and waving it at me. "I tried to kill myself, and you're acting like it's not a big deal. You're such a dick, Arthur," he growled in distressed panic, fisting his fingers into his hair as if he couldn't comprehend why I was so calm.

When Alfred seemed to calm down a little more, still refusing to look at me, I spoke up confidently. "Everyone has their reasons."

Alfred looked up under the hem of his messy bangs, eyes red from subdued tears. "What?"

"I don't know what you were going through when you were absent from school, but I don't have a right to make fun of you for it without knowing what happened. You're still Alfred. I wasn't friends with the Alfred who I ignored in class and who did that. As far as I'm concerned, you're still just the same person I hang out with and who wouldn't hurt a fly."

I could see many different thoughts bouncing behind Alfred's eyes as he sat up, body relaxing somewhat at my reasoning. He waited a moment before snorting with a surprised laugh. "Tell that to my mom."

I offered a smile in return. "I think your mother has enough problems as it is. Do you still want that bottle of water? If you're not going to drink it, then I will," I said.

Alfred playfully flipped me the bird and popped open the water beside him, taking a generous gulp. Despite what I said, my eyes were still drawn to his bandages. Alfred lowered his drink, swallowing carefully as he noticed where my eyes were. I flinched, recognizing my mistake immediately. Bollocks, did I make him self-conscious?

Alfred gingerly ran his fingers over one of his bandaged wrists. "They aren't open anymore, but I still like to keep these on." He glanced up at me nervously. "You know, for the scars."

I nodded, understanding how Alfred would feel if people caught sight of gaping scars on his arms. Still, I didn't know if someone catching sight of such suspicious bandages would be any better. "You don't have to tell me. I pretty much understand the idea," I said, waving him off. I didn't think that I wanted to know, anyway.

Alfred leaned back against the wall and looked at his wrist, appearing as if he were lost in a world I could never even fathom. "The rumors aren't all true." Alfred pursed his lips and shook his head, trying to shake something away. He looked at me and I was caught up in that complicated gaze.

"I was overwhelmed with school. My dad really wanted me to go to a high class college on the east coast, and it cost more than my family's year salary just to go to a place like that. And I had football and scholarships and so many people's expectations on me all at once – it was impossible! Who the hell expects someone to be perfect? I mean, I could barely juggle a job and grades and friends and sports all at once," Alfred explained with an angry frown. "I can't balance everyone's impossible expectations on me. I'm not perfect. I can't be."

I shifted, but let Alfred vent and explain. I was curious, after all.

"So I just did it one afternoon. I was doing homework and it just popped into my head randomly, so I did it. Four cuts with a letter opener and it was done," Alfred said matter-of-factly, as if he just announced that the sky was blue. "Mom found me in the bathroom ten minutes later and called an ambulance. I was there for a week, and I was put under suicide observation the whole time. Now I'm stuck going to some bogus counselor every Saturday. People won't look at me the same anymore, my parents are always suspicious of where I go and what I touch – hell, even Mattie checks up on me in the middle of the night!"

Alfred sighed and gripped at his wrist, looking at me to desperately understand. "You do one thing wrong and your whole world crumbles around you."

He waited for me to do anything. To move, to say something, to spit at him or call him loony. I just sat there for a long time and pondered what to say to that. I opened my mouth, words resting on my tongue as easily as balancing water.

I shrugged. "You're still Alfred."

It had never looked so natural to see Alfred burry his face in his hands in relief and cry. I could testify to that.


	3. Chapter 3

_Are you desperate to find something more _

_before your life is over?_

_Are you stuck inside a world you hate?_

_Are you sick of everyone around?_

_With the big, fake smiles and the stupid lies_

_While deep inside you're bleeding._

- Simple Plan, Welcome to My Life

* * *

"You're not gonna, you know, tell anyone, are you?"

I looked at Alfred from the lawn chair I was sitting in on his front yard, fingers tapping against the plastic armrests in boredom. "Tell who about what?" I asked. Alfred frowned petulantly and took a sip from the lemonade his mother made us. Such a warm day called for a cold drink and lounging on some grass.

And it would've been relaxing had it not been for the hill Alfred's house was on. We both sat at an angle as if the world was tilted and we would surely fall.

"Please, humor me for a second," Alfred sighed seriously.

I drew in a breath and gazed up at the blue sky above us, knowing what Alfred was referring to. "If I had wanted to tell another soul about yourself, don't you think I would have done it by now? It's been nearly a week. I think you aren't giving me enough credit."

It had been a week, yes. But it felt like an eternity, for Alfred never shut up about his arms.

I could see Alfred's foot tapping sporadically against his grass before I sighed to myself. I knew it was a touchy subject, but honestly, Alfred's distrusting behavior made me feel somewhat disappointed. I thought I had made it perfectly clear that Alfred was simply Alfred to me. I didn't see some horribly depressed teenager or an unstable lunatic willing to harm himself every time he picked up a sharp instrument. He was just a typical lost teenager who felt the burdens of everyone pushing him down into the ground, forcing him to feel as though his only way to escape was a quick and unconscious action that he deeply regretted.

I glanced at Alfred, who was chewing on his lip and focusing on the sprinklers in his neighbor's yard. In the back of my mind, though, I wondered if Alfred regretted that he had done it altogether, or if he regretted not succeeding in his task.

"Can you blame me?" Alfred attempted to laugh. "I've been paranoid since I got out of the hospital. I think anyone who mentions my name or laughs across the hallway is talking about me. I thought it would be normal to be paranoid with you, too."

"It shouldn't be, because I'm not going to tell," I insisted, frowning irritably.

Alfred frowned back at me. "Don't get so defensive. I was just asking."

"For the billionth time," I added unenthusiastically, flexing my fingers over my own cool glass in my hand. "I already promised. I won't tell."

Alfred seemed to hesitate a moment before sinking back into his chair in defeat. I wanted to continue to argue with him when he did that, his clear lack of trust in me starting to prick under my skin at impossible levels, but I dropped it. Alfred had enough problems as it was.

Like prom, for example.

"It's in a week," Alfred muttered, rolling his eyes at the thought. I was a little surprised. I had thought that all popular Americans dreamed of the prom since they entered high school. But then again, I guess Alfred didn't qualify as a typical go-getter.

"I'm sure you'll enjoy it."

"You're not going?" Alfred asked, eyes darting up to mine with surprise. I swallowed the liquid in my mouth before raising an eyebrow at him.

"Did you want me to go?" I asked incredulously. Alfred fidgeted as if ants were in his pants before huffing and sticking his chin up in the air, trying to seem indifferent.

"Well, it doesn't really matter… I guess. I dunno," he shrugged, "I just assumed everyone wanted to go this year."

"Do you?"

Alfred looked over at me, clearly unimpressed with the inquiring look I was giving him. "Why do you have to be so difficult?"

I snickered towards him with merriment in my eyes. "I thought that's why you associate yourself with me." Alfred smiled and nudged me with his elbow. We sifted back into the pleasant silence of the warm afternoon, nothing but the taste of lemons in our mouths and the heat trickling up our arms.

"You should go," I spoke after a moment. "I think you would enjoy it."

Alfred's lips twitched downwards as he searched my face for the humor that could be there. He found none. "I wouldn't say I'd enjoy it. Everyone just expects me to go, I think," he muttered.

"If you don't want to go, then just don't go. No one's putting a gun to your head," I said, pausing when Alfred hesitated at my words. I changed them quickly, trying to alleviate any tension starting to form in the air. "That is to say, you have free will. I was just suggesting for you to go because I know how you feel about the student body's attention on you. Surely the school will be buzzing if you decide not to attend."

It sucked, but it was true. Since Alfred was like the sun of our school, all of our classmates orbited around him like planets. If the sun just suddenly disappeared, the planets would be in a confusion of unorganized panic. That was probably the worst thing I hated about our school. If only Alfred wasn't so likeable.

And Alfred knew it, as well, what with the way his shoulders slumped upon recognition. He looked dejectedly at his sneakers on the lawn. "Yeah. It's probably best if I go."

I watched him a moment before nudging his foot with my own, gaining his attention. I smiled at him. "It will be fun."

Alfred hesitated, his eyes searching intently in my own for something that made me feel a bit uncomfortable. He took a moment before smiling back at me, unsurely. "Right. Fun."

Alfred's acting skills seemed to be a bit rusty lately.

* * *

The next couple of nights I had awoken to a small vibration by my face. Even though I was groggy and confused, I still managed to recognize it as my cell phone going off.

Each and every time it was Alfred. But before the third ring – before I was fast enough to pick up – the phone would stop.

I never knew what to think of it.

* * *

As the school prepared for many events that were starting to wrap up the end of the school year, the students had to prepare for finals. School would be over in a few weeks, and these last set of tests ultimately determined who would graduate and who wouldn't.

Being such a careful individual, I had been prepared for the mountains of books and papers to study. It wasn't hard for me to complete the many assignments the teachers threw out at the end of the year, nor was it hard for me to keep up with the rigorous class work piling higher than ever. I was an intellectual from birth; high school wasn't going to change that.

I tapped my pencil in boredom as our history teacher lectured us about the Cold War. I felt myself glance across the room at the scowling students just wanting to put prom and graduation as a priority over studying. Ha. It was a little funny to me, but I kept it to myself.

Surprisingly, when I glanced at Alfred he was listening to the teacher with as much enthusiasm as a caffeinated puppy. Or, so he appeared. I would have admired Alfred for getting into study habits before finals, but after spending so much time with him recently, I could tell that wasn't what he was doing. His posture, his hand, his eyes, Alfred wasn't paying attention. He may have looked like it, but I could see something about him that just looked upset with what he was hearing.

I didn't pursue the thought any further, just waiting till after class to voice my questions.

The bell rang and everyone quickly gathered their belongings, waiting not a moment to escape from the confines of the school and have the afternoon to do whatever they wished. I grabbed my things, as well, preparing to go to Alfred's house as the ritual had been. After months of doing this, I didn't even have to ask anymore. I just assumed that Alfred wanted me over. He didn't seem to have a problem with it, and I knew his family certainly didn't voice any protests with Alfred being friends with me, so I just came over every week.

Unfortunately, Alfred had not informed me that a day or so ago that (against his mother's wishes) his father had persuaded his mother to let Alfred go where he wished. He was on a longer leash, so it seemed.

I caught up to Alfred, catching a glimpse of blonde hair sticking out amongst a crowd of people at the bottom of the steps outside of the school. I paused for a moment, letting my eyes adjust to the image that seemed to be foreign to me now.

Alfred was chatting with his friends, glancing between them all with a smile and laughter. Something tugged in my chest as I observed blankly, making my lips quirk downward ever so slightly. I had forgotten how popular Alfred still was. For some strange reason I had let myself become used to being the only person Alfred focused his attention on.

And clearly by the laughter peeling from his lips as he shoved at his football buddies, I had been foolish.

With a sense of indifference I strolled down the cemented steps and began to bypass Alfred and his group of chatty narcissists, intent solely on getting to my car and leaving him alone. Why did I continue walking past him? Why didn't I stop and say something? Surely I wasn't _jealous_.

That would be preposterous. It would be ridiculous for me to be jealous of Alfred giving others attention. I didn't own him, nor did I wish to.

I didn't get far with my façade as Alfred instantly caught sight of me.

"Arthur!" he called.

I flinched and sucked my breath back between my teeth, only turning rigidly to peer at my friend in a wave of annoying faces. He smiled at me, looking hesitant all the while. With a small gesture, Alfred broke away from his group, who went back to talking with each other. He trotted up to me and I raised my eyebrows at him.

He grinned. "Where are you going?" he asked innocently enough.

"Home, of course," I replied easily. Alfred paused, something stirring behind his eyes as his smile tried to keep itself afloat. "Unless, that is, I'm not supposed to."

"No, no. It's not that you can't – it'd be stupid if you didn't–" He jerked when he saw the surprise etch onto my face, quickly trying to redeem his clumsy words. "That's not what I meant. I meant that I thought you wanted to hang out. You know, like normal."

I took the moment to glance over his shoulder towards his impatient friends. "You don't have other plans?" What was I saying? Of course Alfred didn't have other plans. I relaxed. How could Alfred have other plans with somebody when his mother never let him out of the–

"Oh, I meant to tell you," he said, grinning again. I didn't like the looks of it as he motioned behind him to his friends. "I don't have a curfew anymore!" he beamed. "My ma said I could go out and do stuff, since it's almost graduation and I won't have the chance to do anything again."

"That's wonderful," I said flatly, though it didn't feel wonderful.

Alfred smiled, hesitance streaming beneath his skin. "We're gonna go get pizza. You wanna come?" he asked.

I could see very clearly the hope behind Alfred's eyes, his voice soaked with it. He wanted me to squeeze my way into his lifestyle now that everything was starting to fit back properly into place. He wanted me to stay with him while he existed with his regular friends. I knew it but I frowned instead of pulling a reassuring smile that should've graced my lips.

Impossible.

Crazy.

Ridiculous for ever asking.

"That's alright. I think I will pass on this one," I said carelessly, trying to ignore Alfred's smile wavering.

"R-really?"

He sounded pitiful. What the hell was wrong with me? I brushed him off easily enough and nodded, looking away. "I have finals to study for." _Liar._ "It slipped my mind but I thought I'd already told you I can't come over for the next week or so. I'm sorry." _Chicken. _"Have a good time with your friends, though. Eat a slice for me." _Idiot._

Alfred looked as though he didn't know how to act. He couldn't keep the disappointment off his face to save his life, making me feel familiar waves of guilt hit me like the tide on a beach. It was for the best, though. His friends didn't and couldn't like me, and I happily reciprocated the feeling. I had seen countless occasions where they snubbed fellow classmates and walked around with snarky comments on their pedestals. Hell, one event went out of his way to threaten me. There was no way I could breach Alfred's world of clueless naivety.

"Sure," he finally said, quickly pushing away any remnants of disappointment from his face. He smiled down at me which sent something running down my spine uncomfortably. "Yeah, okay. I'll see you later, then, I guess." He waved, shifting to leave back to his friends. Back where people like him should be.

I frowned to myself and flexed my fingers painfully by my sides, watching Alfred leave with his group.

Why did Alfred have to be so likeable?

I just couldn't bring myself to take Alfred away from the spotlight, nor could I join him there.

What a conundrum.

* * *

"I can't do this!"

I glanced up casually from my textbook, looking at Alfred, who sat cross-legged on his bed, fingers curling into his hair in frustration. He frowned at me with a huff, looking annoyed with my ease with study habits.

"Something the matter, Alfred?" I asked, tilting my head to the side when Alfred shoved the science book away from him roughly.

"This is too hard," he grumbled.

"Studying isn't always a walk in the park, you know."

"Duh."

"Didn't you create any useful study tips during the beginning of the year?" I asked, setting my book down in my lap and raising an eyebrow towards him. Alfred bit at his lip, looking irate.

"You sound like my dad," he muttered, coughing awkwardly and looking distractedly at the posters on his wall. "I don't like studying," he finally admitted after a long moment.

"Well, it never is a pleasing experience, but it's beneficial. At least you will get better grades," I reasoned, watching my friend while he pulled lightly at his hair with a frown. Ever so occasionally did I find myself glancing towards his hidden wrists. Why I couldn't stop my eyes every now and then was beyond me. I was always overcome with a heavy sense of nothingness every time I looked.

Alfred snorted. "Have you been hanging around my parents lately?" he asked, an odd smile pulling at his lips. I frowned at him, unsure what he was talking about. "My dad's always on my ass about my grades. You'd think he woulda taken the hint when… that happened."

"What sorts of grades does he expect?" I asked thickly.

"Straight As. I gotta get myself into a prestigious school, you know," Alfred huffed, smile falling from his face, being replaced with what could only be described as sheer exhaustion. "I got a few Bs and a C last semester. I need to boost my GPA up again, but science is my worst subject."

"Don't set such high standards, Alfred," I said seriously, not liking this new information at all. Alfred's father was still riding him about getting a perfect grade point average? That was absolutely unreasonable. Look where that led. Again, my eyes unconsciously jumped to linger on his arms, Alfred catching me and stilling with a strange look in his eyes.

"I-in any case, if science is so hard then I can help you, if you want," I recovered quickly. "It's an easy subject for me."

"Every subject is easy for you, Einstein," Alfred grinned, making me smile and roll my eyes.

"I'm not as big of a brainiac as you think I am," I said, standing up to walk over to his bed. I sat down next to him and he tilted his head, blonde bangs brushing over his forehead in the process. I paused and stared at him, his eyes practically glowing at the close proximity before I shook it off quickly with a nervous cough. "What do you need help with?"

"All of it," Alfred deadpanned, eyes darting away nervously, as well, as he sat back against his bed sheets.

I hummed to myself, skimming his textbook pages blankly. "Anything else you need help with while we're at it?"

Alfred started counting his fingers. "History, honors psychology, business, homework in general–"

"History?" I asked, head bobbing up, baffled. "How are you doing poorly in history?" I asked in scrutiny. He shrugged and fell back against his bed and rested his arms behind his head like a pillow, feet dangling over the side.

"When you have a hard time catching up with all the late assignments, you can't exactly follow the class and do well on the tests."

I stared at him a long while, something pooling worriedly in my gut. This really was news to me. Alfred was failing a class I was taking with him? A class I sat no more than two feet away from him in? How had I not noticed this? He always looked so well-educated. And all of these problems were because of his suicide attempt and failing to catch up?

My blood started to boil. This certainly wasn't fair.

"We have a lot to catch up on, then," I muttered to myself, patting his knee. "Sit up. You need to get started on this."

Alfred slowly opened his eyes and looked at me and my frown. He just stayed like that a long while before springing up in his bed, lips in a thin line. He took his textbook from me, giving me an odd smile before energetically flipping through the pages.

"You're right. Can't be a slacker my whole life, can I?"

The clustered laugh leaving his lips made me raise an eyebrow, unable to fully push my worry away at the unbelievably happy blonde. Something inside of me felt skeptical as I watched him, wondering if Alfred was still putting up a charade as he had been so good at doing previously.

I hoped for his sake and mine that I was just being overly sensitive.

* * *

The night of the senior prom I had left Alfred alone. For some reason I couldn't bring myself to see him off, nor could I manage to look at him in his pristine black suit with those bright eyes watching me, waiting for a response. Call me selfish if you will, but I just couldn't do it.

And that bothered Alfred.

He had whined into my phone all afternoon, complaining about one thing or another. His shirt shrank in the drier, he hadn't slept well the night before and was too tired, his date wouldn't stop clinging to him–

I had stopped him right there, pressure mounting in my chest as his poor choice of words. With a positive reminder that he would have a wonderful time (as opposed to me, who was stuck watching my younger brother Peter for the evening), I had said goodbye to him and went about the remainder of my night preparing a meal that Peter cried about for hours on end.

As I had sat and watched some childish cartoon, waiting for my parents to return from a long day at work, I couldn't help but glance at the clock more times than I cared to admit, wondering silently what Alfred was doing. I caught myself after the thirty-fifth time (why was I counting?) and shook my head with a frown. I had no right being so curious about Alfred's night. After all, we were just friends – for barely a few months, to boot! – and the last thing he needed was some hypocrite who hadn't spent a second with him today to be wondering about what he was up to.

And so I went to bed early, putting Peter to sleep, hoping that by falling asleep I wouldn't let my mind drift any further to Alfred or the confetti littered night that was sure to be a memorable event for American teenagers.

My attention was caught in the world of darkness behind my eyelids when I heard a tapping at my window. I crinkled my nose and rolled over beneath my blankets, assuming it was my parents getting in late. Minutes passed by and another tap, louder this time, drifted to my ears. And then another.

With an annoyed groan, I sat up and cracked open my eyes, squinting at the clock across the room on my dresser.

2:43am.

That most certainly wasn't my parents.

"Arthur," a harsh whisper drifted in through my windowpane. I blinked blearily to see an outline of a person outside of my curtains. The figure swayed back and forth slightly, leaning against the house for support. My feet scrambled for the carpet when the voice spoke out again, this time sounding more urgent with a subdued tone of panic. "Arthur, wake up. Please."

"Alfred?" I whispered back in alarm, pushing aside my curtains and opening my window. In the dull light of the street lamp I could see Alfred with a worried frown on his lips, arms crossed tightly in front of himself to keep warm from the slightly chilly night. He was still dressed immaculately, looking positively eye-catching in the formal attire he sported. No doubt he came straight from the prom. "What in the devil are you doing here? It's three in the fucking morning," I hissed, voice thick and groggy from sleep.

Alfred swayed and caught himself, gulping slightly as his eyes darted around the darkness of my neighborhood. He struggled for words before smiling pathetically at me.

"C-can I come in?"

With a moment of hesitance I stood aside and watched as he hoisted himself up through my window. He fell to the carpet with a groan, rubbing at his hip where it had made painful contact. I shut my window and curtains, narrowing my eyes suspiciously at him.

"You're drunk," I stated.

Alfred's eyes zipped to mine, cheeks looking as warm as fresh bread from the oven, when I turned a small lamp on. He grinned awkwardly at me. "Yeah."

I rolled my eyes and took a seat on the corner of my bed, trying desperately to rub the sleep from my eyes and focus on the boy in front of me. Teenagers would drink. I had no problem with that. I had done it – er… still do it – more times than I cared to admit. But I had never wandered the streets in the darkness whilst intoxicated.

"I, um… Arthur…" Alfred ran his hand harshly over his hair, face resuming that dreaded look he had bestowed outside of my window. I could see the apprehension trying to pull him apart in just one glance. His voice cracked as he looked up at me, and I had never seen so much sadness on a face before in all my life. "I did something stupid."

My palms instantly started to sweat and I cursed. Why was I jumping to conclusions? Surely Alfred wouldn't have done something _ridiculously_ stupid, let alone in the general direction my mind was wandering. I took a calming breath. "How did the prom go?" I asked.

He paused, seeming to think about this. With pursed lips he shook his head. "It wasn't bad… at first. I thought it was going to be fun. You know, like you said. And it was. It really was fun, Arthur," he laughed but it had the opposite effect of what a laugh should've had on me.

I kneeled down to him on the floor and looked him over, mentally chiding myself when my eyes began to dart quickly around his wrists first. "Then why were you on my porch in the middle of the night?"

"Because prom stopped being fun about an hour ago."

Alfred reached out, fingers gripping at my shirt but unwilling to pull me close. He just sat there with a firm grip against me, eyes searching mine for something. "They know."

I opened my mouth but no words came out, furrowing my brow at the quivering cold drunken _helpless_ individual in front of me.

"Man, they _know_, Arthur. We got drunk an– and I did something stupid."

I gently put my hand over Alfred's, his knuckles all but white against the fabric of my shirt, to calm his rapidly deteriorating placidity. "What did you do?"

Alfred breathed heavily, eyes looking at me desperately for something. "I stopped paying attention."

"Paying attention? To what?" I asked, earnestly confused. Alfred huffed.

"Everything! I always pay attention to everything. Ever since that day – you know, _THE_ day – I had to pay attention to everyone all the time!"

I held my hands out, eyes glancing at my door nervously. "Shh! Alfred, be quieter. My parents–"

"I'm fuckin' paranoid," Alfred continued on in strained whisper. "You know how everyone is at school. They all suspect I did some ungodly thing to myself, so I always make sure to watch how I act. And so far it's been going great. But then I drank and I stopped paying attention and now they know, God, they know, _Arthuuur_."

"Calm down, calm down," I ordered, grasping his face harshly between my hands to get him to stop rambling. Alfred clamped his mouth shut, just watching me as I let all of this sink in. I let go of his face and leaned back on my heels, only halting by Alfred's restraining grip.

"Now, if you'd so kindly shut up and calm down, explain what happened," I said, eyes boring into him with a crease forming between my brows. Alfred took in a large gulp of air and hesitantly nodded, head bobbing, most likely having something to do with the alcohol in his system.

And so Alfred went on the painstakingly long explanation. He told me of the prom, how his mother made such a large deal about her sons dressing up and leaving for the night. He told me about meeting up with his friends and taking a limo to the dance in the city, how crowded the building was with all of the people moving about in it, his date making it much harder to maneuver through the crowd.

I sat quietly but a little annoyed at how much detail Alfred was actually putting into this. I didn't need to know that his feet were hurting because the shoes he had bought were a size too small, nor did I have any desire to hear about his date – some girl I believed was on the dance squad – being more affectionate than a woman finally seeing her husband after a long separation due to war. But I sat and listened patiently, not wanting to disturb Alfred's train of thought. Heaven knew it was easy to derail.

And then he and his chums left early, intent on getting drunk and lucky. My fingers curled lightly into the carpet when Alfred told me of the small, drunken party he went to in one of his friend's garage. I won't go into details, because frankly it would make me undeniably furious. I had a good mind to go smash all of those bloke's heads together, even Alfred's date (_especially_ Alfred's date).

It was true that with all of the noise going around, Alfred was surely to get distracted. And he had, apparently, long enough for his date to push his jacket off and spot those little bands of white bandages Alfred kept around his wrists at all times of the day. His voice quivered as he spoke, Adam's apple bobbing in discomfort as he told of the eyes on him, it seeming as though the world was scrutinizing him.

His friends blurted out questions as if suddenly triggered into action, jokes dying on their lips as they looked at him in shock when Alfred tried to come up with an excuse in his alcohol clouded mind. Apparently with proof now his friends didn't think it was so funny, now letting the situation sink in with a sense of disbelief. There was no doubt in their minds now if there ever was before that their most cherished classmate was a "mental wreck," as Alfred put it.

Alfred believed they were disgusted with him as he immediately left, leaving behind the music and friends in a means to get as far as physically possible. I wasn't there, but I doubted that there was disgust on their faces. I assumed it was Alfred's paranoia (after all, he believed I would be disgusted), but kept it to myself.

He leaned forward, forehead pressed against my shoulder as he tried to gain his bearings, shuddering breath leaving his lips when he finished his story.

I gingerly – almost unsurely – patted his shoulder, jumping slightly when he leaned in closer, seeming desperate for any kind of comfort he could manage. I wasn't sure how to console people, for I never did it before, but as best I could I wrapped an arm around Alfred and rested my chin against his hair.

"What are they gonna say, Arthur?" Alfred asked, voice muffled with his head down.

I paused and pursed my lips, letting out a small sigh from my nostrils. "They won't say anything," I reassured.

Alfred shook his head. "They will. The school will know. The school will… they'll-"

"They won't."

Alfred hesitated, wanting to argue with me, but he shut his mouth briskly instead and tensed, muscles tight and pushed to their limit against my own body. With great reluctance, Alfred nodded against me. It didn't seem convincing, but for that one moment it was the truth.

"Everything is all right, okay?"

* * *

"I'm going to fail this test, you know that, right?"

"You aren't going to fail," I said, rolling my eyes for effect. Alfred huffed from his desk and blew some hair out of his eye in annoyance. I easily flipped through the book in front of me, all of the important information marked with a post-it note and highlighters.

"My grades say otherwise."

"That's because you aren't taking this seriously. Alfred, if you expect to fail then what do you think you will do?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. Alfred looked at me in boredom.

"Work at McDonalds the rest of my life?" he offered, hoping that was the right answer I was looking for. I scoffed.

"I suppose that could happen. And I know that you want to do more with your life than work in a fast food chain. So study."

"But working there doesn't sound so bad. I like the food. I like the environment. Everyone there knows me because I'm such a regular. Why not?"

I didn't like how serious Alfred sounded about that. I frowned at him and threw a wadded up ball of paper at his head. He gave an irritated whine and shot me a glare, which I returned. "You need to go to college, Alfred."

"I don't _need_ to do anything," he countered.

"So you don't want to go to college?" I asked, my lips pulling into a tight line at his nonchalance. Ever since the prom Alfred had been bugging me recently. I let it slide most of the time, what with the teasing at school turning to lingering stares and dark humored jokes, all of which increased in number for some strange reason, but there was a limit. I wasn't a Saint and Alfred surely wasn't going to influence me to treat him as such a person would.

His pessimism seemed to skyrocket after his "so called" friends let the cat out of the bag, whereas his self-confidence seemed to be plummeting as the days piled high.

"You sound like my parents again," Alfred grumbled, placing his cheek in his palm.

I scowled at him. "Fine. You can just fail your tests and drop out of school for all I care."

As I went back to my own studying, I could hear Alfred shift, pressure dwelling on my face from where I was sure Alfred was looking at me. I continued to ignore him until he conceded and slumped in his chair.

"It's not that I don't want to go to college, you know."

"You could have fooled me."

Alfred frowned, eyebrows pulling together somewhat depressingly. "I just can't see myself going to Harvard or someplace like that. You know, the places my parents want me to go. I can't keep up with all of those people."

I slowly looked up at him and set my pen down, regarding Alfred carefully as he watched me with hesitation. "I never expected you to attend an elite school, Alfred."

"I _know_ that–"

"Then why do you insist that I do?"

Alfred ruffled his hair with his hand before sitting up and huffing. "It's not your fault, really. I guess I'm just used to my dad hounding me or something. I just keep–"

"Setting your expectations too high. I thought we went over this already. You don't have to live up to your parent's impossibly high standards. Lord knows you try to fulfill everyone's wishes as it is. You're going to crash and burn." Alfred blinked at me, head tilting to the side as my eyes widened a bit and I paused in the realization.

I expected Alfred to crash and burn. That was… I had never spoken of it before, but Alfred worried me. Was this feeling really so insistent that it needed to push its way to the surface to notify me?

"I… I believe that you can achieve whatever you want. You have the potential that so many people envy – would even be satisfied with a_ quarter_ of what you have –, so I hope you use it," I said, coughing awkwardly into my hand as Alfred watched me with those two impressionable eyes of his.

He shifted. "You think so?" he asked unsurely.

I didn't even hesitate. "I _know_ so."

We remained there for a moment just looking at each other, my skin feeling like thousands of ants were crawling under it while Alfred squirmed in his seat, eyes darting away as he fiddled with his hands. He stood up, scratching at the back of his head bashfully, looking for something to do. He gestured to the door.

"I'm gonna– Do you want something to drink? I'm gonna get something to drink."

I nodded and awkwardly shut my book, noticing that Alfred had a particularly _interesting_ set of white sheets on his bed. Were those cotton? _Marvelous_. "Sure." I slowly got to my feet when Alfred quickly left his room, my fingers tugging at my bangs in annoyance as I felt my face warm up, legs wobbling the smallest amount. What the bloody hell was wrong with me? I sounded like his fucking mentor all of the sudden.

With a weary sigh, I followed after Alfred and entered his kitchen where he was retrieving two glasses from his cabinet, his mother doing some dishes as his father read the newspaper at the table with Matthew.

"Hello, Arthur," Matthew said in his usual quiet voice as he looked up at me.

"Hello, Matthew," I greeted politely, standing off to the side of the Jones family. They all looked so different from each other– so out of place. It was like someone just took four random people from different households and ordered them to live together under the same roof, much like those horrid reality shows. And Alfred lived here fulltime. My mind spun.

"Ah, Arthur! I didn't know you were over here again. I shouldn't be so surprised anymore since you and Alfred seem to be stuck together like glue," Alfred's mother giggled by the sink, her blue eyes shining with delight. I wondered how one moment I was witnessing her fall apart on her doorstep while now she looked at me as if I was her savior (or her son's, to be more specific).

"Mom," Alfred warned, setting some glasses down. She flicked some soap at him.

"Well, it's true, dear. I'm just glad you're branching out and making new friends still. For a moment I thought you were anti-social," she smiled, though the corners of her lips twitched unconvincingly.

"I'm fine, mom. I was just tired that week is all," Alfred sighed, moving for the refrigerator.

Alfred's dad snorted, muttering under his breath, never removing his eyes from the newspaper. "More like month."

I noticed Matthew shoot his father a displeased look before it settled back to his placid expression as he stood from the table and placed his soda can in the garbage, vacating the room.

"Are you both excited for graduation?" Mrs. Jones asked, looking over her shoulder at us. "I would be bursting out of my skin right now. Two weeks and my babies are all grown up and off to college," she swooned, making me smile. It seemed she was genuinely moved with so many emotions for both of her children leaving high school. It was slightly amusing.

"It's not a huge deal, mom. Everyone does it," Alfred said and rolled his eyes in good humor at his mother's sniffling.

"It _is_ a big deal. You are leaving the nest and flying off to your own horizon! Arthur agrees with me, don't you?"

Both Alfred and his mother looked at me expectantly. I smirked towards Alfred. "She does have a point."

Alfred groaned and his mother laughed.

"Speaking of school, how is the studying going, Alfred?"

Alfred seemed to pause uncomfortably, glancing at his father quickly with a small frown on his lips. "Fine."

Mr. Jones looked up over his paper and I felt a small jolt travel down my spine. It was uncanny how much Alfred looked like his dad. It was like peering through a time portal and seeing Alfred in twenty years. "Have you gotten that psychology grade up yet?"

Alfred hesitated before he smiled tersely and put the lemonade away. "You bet."

Mr. Jones let his eyes linger on his son for a long while before he let them settle back onto the newspaper. "That's my boy," he muttered, though it didn't sound as encouraging as it probably should have. "I'll be pleased with your report card, I assume."

Alfred laughed and handed a glass to me, purposefully going out of his way to ignore the scowl I was shooting at him. This was in no way helping him with his confidence in school. He knew it, and I'm sure his parents even knew it. And yet all three of them continued to play the part of the perfect, little family, seemingly oblivious to all of the sludge and muck that lay beneath the surface of their hearts.

I was honestly surprised that Alfred had even made it this far.

* * *

Graduation was just around the corner, but that didn't stop the student body from spreading gossip like wildfire. News of the confirmation of Alfred's suicide attempt didn't change the student population's chatter, although it did spur gossip to a greater number.

Instead of jokes being made across the classroom, they were now whispered by peers. Instead of making obvious implications to Alfred's face in a conversation, they were now reduced to multiple nudges and lingering stares.

I did not go a single day without hearing something about Alfred. And it wasn't that he was our valedictorian – as "perfect" as he was – (aside from his grades this current semester), or that he was getting offered scholarships for his career in high school football. It always referred back to the one day that surely would haunt Alfred for all eternity.

I felt my jaw clenching in aggravation the next two weeks, wishing there was something I could say that would just make everyone belt up.

But there wasn't. So I just sat back passively and listened to the snickers at a joke being made or notes being passed with judging eyes glancing at Alfred's back.

I didn't know how he could joke along with everyone else and laugh every day.

I really wondered if it was just a performance. Honestly, Alfred was a splendid actor.

* * *

Our graduation robes were atrocious. Simply, horridly atrocious.

I scowled at my cap and gown hanging up in my closet, sour look set on my face in dread at having to wear this in a few hours. What in God's name possessed the school officials to choose our colors as brown and gold? It looked like a right mess in a public restroom, that's what it did.

I sighed and shut the closet door, rubbing at my face in exhaustion. A week of studying and test taking had to be ended with a night that dragged on with this celebration? What a lot to handle. I personally was in no mood to sit out in the boiling sun for an hour just to obtain a piece of paper. But my parents thought otherwise as I opened my bedroom door to get bombarded with flashes that sent black dots dancing across my eyes.

"Oh, my son is graduating! Arthur, smile. You're graduating today," my mother cheered, taking a picture as I distinctly frowned at her.

"You're old," Peter quipped with a giggle, fingers curled around my mother's calf as he grinned up at me.

"Thank you. I needed to hear that, Peter."

I pushed past my mother and tried to make my way into the kitchen when a loud screech pierced my eardrums and I shouted, toppling over with wide eyes and a hammering heartbeat threatening to destroy my chest cavity. I stared up at my father who was smiling down at me, small blow horn in hand. My ears rang and I stumbled to get to my feet as my mother snapped more pictures.

"What are you doing?" I asked my father who just placed his hand in his pocket and looked unsurely at the blue horn.

"Isn't this what I'm supposed to do? Don't Americans make a lot of noise for graduation day?"

"Watch where you point that thing, love. You'll make his ears bleed," my mother instructed and pushed the blow horn away. I sighed and kneaded my temples.

"Too much fun too early?" my mother asked, looking at me curiously as I draped myself on the couch. "Hun, I suggest you don't blow that thing anymore until tonight. You'll tire him out."

"Now, do I blow this only for our child, or do I do it whenever a person walks up for a diploma?"

"I think it's just our child… or, no. Wait. Maybe it is for every person."

"You don't _have_ to blow it at all," I suggested.

My mother and father looked at each other in thought. "Just use it for every other person, dear. That way you're being fair."

"Ah. Smart thinking."

I sighed, surely to be embarrassed with my parents observing on the bleachers this evening, as they walked idly back into the kitchen to finish the cake my mother was baking for this occasion. I smiled absentmindedly to myself at my parents' lack of common sense for these sorts of things and clicked on the telly.

The realization sunk in that we were all finally graduating, leaving behind the lives we shared at mandatory school. Unconsciously, my mind drifted towards Alfred, a bit of relief lingering in my belly at the thought of Alfred no longer having to endure the ridicule of his fellow classmates. Leaving high school would surely be a good thing for Alfred. He needed a change in scenery.

I jumped when our doorbell reached my ears, my eyes shooting curiously towards the door. I stood up and smoothed down the wrinkles in my pants as I approached it. "I'll get it," I informed my parents.

Carefully I opened the door, casting green eyes in slight surprise to see Matthew frowning on my porch with unsettling body language. He bit at his lip and nodded towards me.

"Matthew? What are you doing here?" I asked, honestly confused. We were not very close, so I was even just a little surprised that he knew where I lived.

"Hey, Arthur. Have you seen Alfred?" he asked, eyes looking hopefully up at me, getting straight to the point.

My fingers lightly gripped the door in confusion. "No. We haven't spoken all morning. Last I heard, he told me he would be preparing his speech for tonight."

Matthew frowned awkwardly, chest deflating in disappointment. I furrowed my brow. "Why? Hasn't he been at your house?"

Matthew shifted uncomfortably and glanced over his shoulder back at the running car parked outside of my house. "No," he said distractedly. "I haven't seen him since I woke up. Maybe he's at the library or something," he muttered to himself, biting at his nail with something lingering in his unfocused eyes.

"I'm sure he's all right. He must just be under a lot of pressure to prepare for the ceremony," I reassured him, wondering how much I was trying to put at ease in him rather than myself as my heart started to dance in discord.

Matthew didn't say anything as he shifted, eyes meeting mine slowly for a brief second, looking as if he wanted to ask me something, before it died. He gave a small smile and moved to leave.

"Yeah. Just– just give me a call if you see him."

"Sure," I answered with perplexity. I watched as Matthew vacated the premise as quickly as he'd come, a strain fluttering in my chest with nervousness. I slowly shut the door and leaned my palm against it, frowning in thought.

No, I was sure Alfred was fine. He was probably just writing his speech at the library like Matthew had said.

I pushed aside that nagging voice in the back of my head, the one that told me to worry because Alfred _had_ been acting rather strange since the prom, and calmly picked up my cell phone.

"Who was at the door, Arthur?" my mother asked, peeking her head out of the kitchen curiously.

I held my phone up to my ear and waved her away. "Nobody. It was a salesman," I lied.

She huffed and went back to the stove. "Damn marketers. I can't stand those bloody prats bothering me at my own house."

I tapped my foot impatiently when the ringing in my ears continued. If Alfred didn't pick up in the next five seconds I was going to–

"_Hey! What's up?"_

I felt my whole body relax simultaneously as I let out a sigh. Just hearing Alfred's cheerful voice washed away any remnants of worry that was rooted in my nerves. I wiped my hand down my face and leaned back against the door. "Jesus, Alfred. You scared the living daylights out of me. Why aren't you at your home right now? Matthew's been running around looking for you."

"_Uh-huh. Yeah, that's interesting._"

I raised an eyebrow. "Of course it's interesting. If your brother is this panicked about you getting up and disappearing to the library or God knows where, imagine what your parents are thinking. You should probably give them a call so they don't call the–"

"_Okay, okay. That's something to think about. Now, can you repeat yourself again after the beep, because I'm currently not able to get to my phone right now. I know, right? You probably totally thought you were talking to me! Haha, bummer. But if you leave your name and number I might feel like getting back to you later. As long as you're not Mattie telling me mom wants me to take out the garbage again… Seriously, bro. Not cool."_

I stilled, staring at my phone with disbelief as Alfred's laughter filtered through before a beep resounded. What a devious little message. Of course I wouldn't put it past Alfred to make a message like that and lead people on. I put my cell phone up to my ear once more and took in an annoyed breath.

"Alfred," I started. "I won't say anything about your ridiculously childish voicemail message, but I will ask you to please call me. Your brother stopped by a minute ago and I think it was about something important. Thank you."

I hung up and trudged over to my couch, plopping down with that odd weight in my chest cavity that I shook off. Alfred was fine. He was just very busy today.

I watched aimlessly some programs on the television, never truly getting into the topics, for my mind was elsewhere. After thirty minutes I glanced at my phone again. With a great deal of hesitation I dialed Alfred's number again and waited.

"_Hey! What's up?"_

I frowned and hung up.

Another thirty minutes passed and I tried again.

"_Hey! What's up?_"

"Alfred, you bleeding moron," I seethed in anxiety on my couch. I waited impatiently for the rest of the message to continue.

"-_ain… Seriously, bro. Not cool._"

Beep.

"Pick up your damn phone!"

I hung up again.

Ten minutes passed and I was drawn to my phone once more.

"_Hey! Wha-_"

Click.

Swallowing the rapidly building wall at the bottom of my throat, I grabbed my keys and threw open my door. I didn't pay any heed to my parents' confusion, nor the sound my tires made in protest as I took off down the street, eyes skimming face after face after face that I came across.

_You're jumping to conclusions_, my brain tried to reason. _What is wrong with you? You've never been this panicked before._

True, I had never been this worried over absolutely nothing. But I supposed people always had that one person in their lives that made them do unreasonable things. I had always had unwavering trust for Alfred ever since that day where I drove him home. He only looked at me with grins and appreciation, glad that I was never one to pry into his life. And even after I had found out about his terrible deed, I still never stopped trusting him. So why now? Why now of all times did my chest hurt and my blood pump faster through my veins as if my heart was about to explode?

I didn't have much time to think about it as I stopped at the library, checking every aisle and cursing when a certain blonde was nowhere to be found. I hopped back in my car and drove to every burger joint Alfred had ever talked about. He wasn't there.

He wasn't at the hill where he'd taught me to skateboard. He wasn't at the movie theatre where we snuck in to the back and remained in the far corner for the afternoon, never being disturbed as we watched the same corny movie over and over again on a loop. He wasn't at the park or at the baseball field or the fucking comic book store. He wasn't anywhere.

I felt ill as I held my phone to my ear, shifting over the three messages of my parents wondering where I was and that graduation started in less than an hour and a half. My fingers ran through my hair as I stared at the sidewalk beneath me, feet firmly on the gravel, hunched with my face in my palm facing the sunset.

"-_you later. As long as you're not Mattie telling me mom wants me to take out the garbage again… Seriously, bro. Not cool._"

I grimaced at the beep and rubbed my palm in a soothing manner against my forehead. I knew I was just breathing into that damned phone, but I couldn't bring myself to hang up. This was the only connection to Alfred I had at the moment, and if I hung up then… then I…

My voice wouldn't work.

I sighed and narrowed my eyes, sounding totally pathetic even to my own ears as images danced behind my eyes; images of scissors, of razors and paperclips and tree-trimmers and fire pokers. My panic spiked and I felt ashamed.

"_Alfred_." I sounded so brittle at that moment. Why was I doing this to myself? He was fine. He_ was_- he was fine…

I shuddered and stared pleadingly at my phone, the sun starting to set around me and paint the world with oranges and reds. Graduation was closing in on me like a dog biting at my heels.

"You– you wouldn't… right?"

I heard the click of the phone as a woman's voice sounded my ears, telling me that the allotted time for a voicemail was finished. Unwillingly, I hung up my phone and shifted back around, placing my head against the steering wheel.

This was definitely not good.

After a long moment of feeling completely helpless, I started my car up again and decided to make my way back to my house. I needed to get dressed in that detestable robe and cap, though I was in no mood for any celebration. Something was too jumbled inside of me to even think about celebrating.

Perhaps Matthew had had a bit more luck than I. Nodding to myself, I turned and made my way up Alfred's street, hoping to see him and his family preparing to leave to get good seats. A car was gone, but Alfred's red truck still sat in the same place it had been in when I'd first driven over here months ago. It had never been moved.

I frowned nervously when I could make out Alfred's mother talking to a group of neighbors, the woman looking absolutely frightened and lost, gripping at her dress with large eyes. Matthew's car still wasn't there, and there was no sign of Alfred's father.

Perhaps coming this way was a bit too discouraging.

As I flipped back around I looked up to meet Mrs. Jones's eyes for a brief moment, the world seeming to slow down to blurs as her face smoothed out, the tears that were marring her eyes halted as she gave me the strangest look I had ever seen. It made me feel guilty for some reason.

I quickly turned away and drove down the hill, feeling much worse than I had when coming up here.

Where was Alfred?

* * *

My fingers were stiff and shaking as I tried to zip up my brown robe. I looked at myself in the mirror, staring at the depressingly appalling look on my face. Was it even possible to look so scared?

I sighed and placed my cap onto my head, blowing the stupid tassel away from my face. This was not fun. I wanted to skip the ceremony.

I wondered absentmindedly if Alfred's family had called the police. Surely that woman would be in a fit of hysterics, afraid of going through what she had all those months ago. My fingers flexed at my sides as I nearly tripped over my feet, stumbling and catching myself against the sofa.

Alfred would _never_ do that again, I tried to convince myself.

Sure, he had been getting a lot more gall from the students, and pressure was mounting with his father, but he was almost free. One more day and he wouldn't have to deal with everybody anymore. He wasn't crazy or a lunatic or unstable. He was Alfred.

He was just _Alfred_.

I winced, thinking that yes, Alfred was just Alfred. But what if Alfred was more than that? What if being unstable or a lunatic _was _part of what made Alfred Alfred? This thought had never occurred to me before, and it was more than a frightening aspect.

I shook my head and hurried out my door, locking it.

What was I thinking? I was doing what everybody else was doing. I was labeling him and thinking he was strange and a threat to himself and others. Just because he tried to take his life once didn't mean he would do it again.

I paused when getting back into my car, staring at the dash and pulling at my bottom lip with my teeth. But it didn't mean that he _wouldn't_ either.

I walked listlessly into the school, hearing the graduation tune drifting with trumpets and drums over the expanse of the gym, the sun setting over the empty campus, giving it a somewhat forlorn look. I stood, just watching, and frowned painfully, clenching my fists at my sides.

God, I hated this school.

With a long exhale I went to move for the gymnasium, knowing that the rest of the senior population was standing in there, waiting to be led out onto the field where all of the parents and the band awaited, looking hopeful to wind up all of our years at this school with a nice diploma.

I made it four steps before movement to my left caught my vision and I froze. There, across the quad, stood Alfred, wearing his brown cap and grown and shutting the school library's door carefully, as if not to make a sound. I gaped at him as he stacked his papers and turned, eyes glancing up to stop on my figure.

He grinned at me. "Hey, Arthur! Lookin' snazzy," he snickered and trotted towards me. I could only stare at him with my jaw hanging open and blink. Alfred raised an eyebrow with a playful smile. "Dude, what's up with that face? You look like you just saw a ghost or somethin'."

It was like I was possessed or something at that moment. Every known emotion known to man tried to hurl itself up through my esophagus and escape, the pressure so intense that my lungs stung in a futile attempt to get enough oxygen.

"Wh… Where the FUCK have you been, you bloody imbecile?" I erupted after finding my mobility. Alfred cringed and jumped, scooting back in alarm as I started to storm towards him, throat and chest feeling impossibly constricted as I grabbed his collar and screamed at him.

"A-Arthur? What the hell, man? I was at school– Dude, I was at school!" he said, looking panicked, as if I was about to punch him. I really considered it as I seethed, definitely not feeling like crying tears of frustration. I withheld the urge, not that there was one.

"School? Why would you be at _school_?"

"I had to write my speech," Alfred complained, pushing at my hands to let him go. He dropped his speech papers and took a step away, his shoe leaving a footprint on it. "I told you that, remember?"

I grit my teeth and fumed, unsure of how to let all of these angry and worried and scared and _angry_ emotions out all at once. At school? He was really just at school all this time? The one place I didn't care to look and Alfred was here. I felt like an utter fool.

"Your family is worried sick. I think they called the police on you, Alfred!"

"The police?" Alfred's eyes bugged out of his head. "Why'd they call the police?" he asked, voice shaking at the thought of having the authorities launched onto him again.

"_They think you're hurt_, that's why!"

Alfred looked ridiculously clueless and I wanted to slap him. I threw his collar away, disgusted at how angry this was making me. I should've been satisfied – happy – that he was all right, that no harm had become him. Instead I felt angry. Impossibly, _impossibly_ angry at Alfred for making me worry. For making me frightened and feel lost and helpless – a terrible feeling that I wished I would never have felt. But most of all, for making me doubt him.

For one moment I was just like the population of this school, and that sickened me.

"Why didn't you answer your phone? I called you a dozen times and you never responded."

"The battery's dead," he muttered, looking at me with those two innocent eyes. I wanted to choke when he looked at me like that. It was bad enough that I felt guilty now. "Why would I be hurt, Arthur?" he asked. "Why would you all think I was hurt?" Alfred looked skeptical and I couldn't say anything to get rid of that expression on his face.

He finally narrowed his eyes at me. "You- Don't tell me you thought I…" It seemed that even he couldn't manage the thought aloud, looking at me in a horrified manner. "Arthur, you thought I'd–"

"Alfred, you don't understand," I said, shaking my head. Alfred's nose crinkled as he recoiled away from me, alarmed frown pulling at his lips.

"What the hell is wrong with you? I thought you said that that didn't matter to you. You didn't care about my past, and you didn't even ask me about it." He looked around as if looking for what he was supposed to think. He settled with shouting again most insistently, "_What the hell is wrong with you_!"

"Alfred–"

"I can't believe you thought I–" Alfred shook his head in disbelief. "I can understand my parents, but you're supposed to be my friend. I can't believe you!"

"Well, what the fuck was I supposed to think?" I argued right on back, fed up, feeling my voice straining with how loud it was getting. "You disappeared and didn't tell anyone where you were! Was I just supposed to sit back and ignore that you weren't answering anyone's calls and attend graduation without giving your whereabouts so much as one thought?"

"You're supposed to not think I'm some unpredictable psycho!" he defended, and the sheer dip of betrayal in his voice was like a knife in my chest, making me physically wince.

"I don't!"

"That's strange, because you thinking I'd go stab myself to death or throw myself in front of a car gave me a different impression." I could feel rather than see the hurt etching behind Alfred's eyes. Was I really the only person he had who hadn't thought he would jump off the deep end at any given minute?

That was so depressing.

"I didn't think that at all," I muttered, feeling the familiar sting of guilt bite at me.

"Stop lying, Arthur," Alfred said, looking as if I'd deceived him of my character.

"I don't," I insisted, wanting nothing more than to just forget this whole thing happened. Alfred didn't look as if he'd be swayed as easily. "I'm sorry. I was just- just worried about you. I think you'd do the same for me."

Alfred pursed his lips, knowing this fact to be the truth. The band started to play louder in the distance, indicating that students were starting to be led out onto the field. We stared at each other for a while, robes heavy on our shoulders as the weight of graduation bore down on us. Even in the light of the sun, the streams of reds and oranges splaying against him like blood from a leaking wound, Alfred appeared to flinch. I glimpsed down to see my own hands looking as though they were coated with the crimson substance, like the guilty man with blood on his hands that I was.

"Boys, what are you doing? Let's go! They're moving without you."

I looked over my shoulder at a teacher waving quickly at us to enter the gym, haste written clearly on her face.

I faltered for a moment before looking back at Alfred, something lingering in his gaze that I couldn't place my finger on. He bent down to pick up his crumpled speech, slowly walking past me with a painful scowl.

"That is where you're wrong about us, Arthur. I'd never think so low of you."

I stiffened and gazed at the ground with a bitter scowl pulling at my own lips, listening as Alfred walked past me and into the cold embrace of this high school's soul, intent on giving his speech to his peers. His words stabbed at me more than any knife could.

And even as the music played out in the distance, the temperate summer evening warming my face, I stood there, stiff and staring in frustration at a spot on the cement.

I really didn't feel like celebrating today.


	4. Chapter 4

_Author's Notes:_

Hey, guys. Last installment. Hope you enjoyed the story so far, and for those of you who are unaware, there is a sequel titled_ Static_ in my account, set with a more romantic vibe than this. Just a heads up.

Enjoy.

* * *

_Do you know what's worth fighting for_

_when it's not worth dying for?  
_

_Does it take your breath away_

_and you feel yourself suffocating?  
_

- Greenday, 21 Guns

* * *

The clock on my dresser wouldn't stop that horrid ticking noise. All weekend it had been ticking. Tick tick ticking into all hours of the night. Tick tick ticking throughout my skull, confined inside of me like a criminal in a prison. It gave me splitting headaches and put me in a foul mood. At first I had tried to remove the clock from the wall, but the cord led behind my dresser and I couldn't manage to move the slab of wood without toppling everything else onto the floor. I contemplated smashing it, but didn't have the energy to do such a thing. I just wanted the clock to shut up.

It only took me two weeks later until I realized why the ticking of the clock bothered me so. Each tick stabbed a little at my heart – not like knives, but like miniscule paper cuts, slowly eating me away. Each tick was another second that Alfred was mad at me. Another second that we hadn't resolved our little spat at graduation.

Were we still even friends?

I couldn't for the life of me find an answer to that question, instead choosing to scowl angrily at my clock and throw my pillow at it. This eternal ticking would be the death of me. Funny how just a few weeks ago the tables were turned, and I had been concerned with Alfred's mortality. Now I felt my guilt eating away at me.

This sucked.

I sighed and ran my hands through my messy hair, falling back on my bed so I could stare up at my ceiling. All the while my fingers danced hesitantly over the cell phone in my pocket. After graduation Alfred had left before I could even say anything. I was flocked by my parents and couldn't get away. Apparently Matthew had shown up at the graduation ceremony late, telling his parents via phone that Alfred was there. I think Alfred's parents missed their son's graduation, as well as Alfred's speech.

I paused when recalling his speech. That damn speech made me feel worse than I already did. It was so hopeful and encouraging, telling his peers that they could move past any horrible or hard times in their lives and start anew in college with a clean slate. He said to find the people who were your support beams and don't be afraid to lean onto them, for they would help you overcome any obstacle. Alfred had looked up and we had locked eyes a moment before he turned away.

Stupid stupid stupid. I ruined that.

Alfred still hadn't talked to me since. I stopped by his house a few times but his parents always told me that he wasn't there. His red truck was still parked in that unmoving spot, so I had no means to know if they were lying for him or not. I called him asking to talk to me, but he never returned my calls.

In the end I felt closed off and isolated in my own bedroom. I growled and pushed my palms into my eyes. I hated this. Why couldn't we just be best friends again? Something clicked in the back of my mind in slow realization.

Alfred and I were best friends.

With a shaky breath and a scowl, I closed my eyes.

Alfred and I were best friends, and that realization just made the paper cuts on my heart sting all the more.

* * *

"Arthur? You're still here? I thought you were going to go out today."

I continued to stare at the television and ignored my mother. She stood beside me with a curious fog lingering behind her eyes as I lazily flipped through the channels. I shrugged and stretched my legs out in front of me like a cat, shifting against the sofa to get more comfortable. I vaguely became aware of my mother as she strolled across the room and opened the curtains, forcing me to squint at the bright light of the sun.

"It's so gloomy," she stated, placing her hand on her hip and turning to look at me. "I don't want these closed again, understand? You're going to waste away if you spend your whole summer on the couch."

I didn't look at her and shrugged again, flipping from a channel with zebras to another with some sort of talk show. "I don't sit on the couch all day. I have a job," I muttered easily and clicked the remote again. Yes, I had a job. A boring, monotonous job at a local clothing store. Now that the summer had come and I was no longer in school, I worked nearly forty hours a week to pay for my future semesters at college. Originally it was planned that I go to a college up north to stay with a distant relative I had never known. But I decided against it, for I would have already had to leave once graduation ended.

There was no way I could bring myself to leave. At least, not without getting Alfred to understand and accept my apology.

Just thinking about this made me frown in distaste, muscles tightening uncomfortably under my skin. I would go to college next spring, by then having made enough money for the expensive tuition and then some.

"You've had the whole week off."

Another click of the remote. "Four days," I corrected.

With that my mother waltzed quickly in front of me, snatched the remote out of my hands, and turned the television off. I finally looked up at her, withholding a glare that I was about to shoot her in surprise, when she beat me to it with a very uncharacteristic scowl. At least I knew where I inherited that look from.

"I haven't the faintest idea what has gotten into you, but I won't help condone being lazy in my house. Go out. Have some fun. _Live_ a little."

I stared at her with an unamused expression before huffing silently and looking away. I could faintly hear my mother sigh as she moved out of my vision and placed the remote down on the coffee table.

"Why don't you go watch a movie. Or play some football with your friend Alfred," she suggested, raising her eyebrows curiously into her hairline when I tensed and scowled at her.

"We aren't friends anymore," I supplied thickly, unhappy with this statement. I never got a say in the matter anyway. This took a moment to sink in before my mother ran her fingers through her hair, looking awkward and wanting to pry, yet not having the indecency to do so.

She slapped her legs quickly before scurrying out of the room, coming back moments later with a folded piece of notebook paper. She tossed it down in my lap where I just stared at it blankly. Curiously, I unfolded it slowly for it to reveal grocery contents. Eggs, milk, butter…

I looked back up at her, not liking the gentle smile on her lips. "You want me to go shopping for you?" I asked unenthusiastically. She nodded.

"Might as well do something while you're doing nothing."

"That doesn't even make sense."

It frankly didn't matter if it made sense or not, I was still being shooed out the door with my mother's shopping list in hand and a pocket full of money. Despite my great urge to barge back into my house and flop back down in the sitting room, I swallowed the total lackluster feeling I had been experiencing since graduation and got into my car.

There honestly wasn't any reason for me to rush when pushing a wiry cart down the aisles and aisles of food products. The sooner I completed this chore, the sooner I would be back to brooding and doing absolutely nothing. And as tempting as that sounded, I wasn't too thrilled.

Nothing was only fun for three days.

I grumbled under my breath and mentally crossed cheese off of the list when I placed a cube into the cart. I shoved the list back into my pocket and turned around, wincing when the wheels got stuck and made an awful scraping sound against the floor. With the intent on going to find the cereal aisle, my parents willing enough to give their already too hyper son Peter sugar for breakfast, I didn't pay attention to the sound of another cart as I turned the corner.

A jolt of surprise shot up my spinal column when my cart collided with another, the handle pushing painfully under my ribcage. I recovered quickly with an apology falling from my mouth. "I'm sorry. I wasn't watching where I was going, which I should have been, but I was being careless and not looking where I–"

"Arthur, it's alright," the woman cut me off smoothly, placing her hand over mine. I gulped, looking up and finally taking notice of the lady I had just bumped into. I blinked stupidly when her soft features and bright blonde hair melted underneath the gaze of my eyes, sinking into my brain in recognition like water down the cracks into a rock.

Alfred's mother.

There was a distinct wave of silence as I just stared at her, my mind temporarily shutting down at the sight of this one person smiling back at me. It had been so long since I had seen Alfred's mother – let alone _conversed_ with her – so needless to say, this was an awkward situation. My staring made it twice as awkward, I soon realized, and quickly looked away, face heating up as she chuckled at me.

"It's been a while, Mrs. Jones," I greeted as best I could to make up for my blank expression I had been regarding her with. "What are you doing here?"

She pretended to mull this over before smirking teasingly at me. "Hmm… I was just sitting at home when my stomach started to growl and remembered that there was a place that sold some sort of food goods."

I smiled lopsidedly. "Funny," I muttered to myself and withheld the urge to roll my eyes. Mrs. Jones shifted her shopping cart and ran her eyes along the shelves of food.

"How have you been, by the way? Congratulations on graduating," she said, looking back at me with something drifting behind the blue of her eyes; something I couldn't quite register the meaning behind. I had seen that look countless times from Alfred's mother, but I never knew what or why it was there. To say the least, it was unsettling.

"Thank you. I've been well," I lied. "It's been a very interesting experience," I said, my voice tripping over the word 'interesting.'

"Are you going to school? I heard that you were a rather smart boy, so I wouldn't be surprised if you were accepted into a very impressive college," Alfred's mother commented, running her manicured finger over a bottle of barbeque sauce along the shelf. Who would she hear that from? Only Alfred came to mind, and it sent my head in a tizzy that he could still be talking about me to people (he always seemed to brag about my intelligence for some reason).

"No… Um, no, I'm not." My voice sounded more uncertain than I wished it to, and Mrs. Jones picked up on it, her eyes flickering carefully up to mine. I smiled and it felt awfully forced. "I decided it would be best to work for a year or two to get enough money to pay my own way. I don't wish to bother my parents or get caught up in loans and such."

This was partially true, for I didn't want to bother anyone with money problems. We weren't terribly wealthy people, though we weren't poor either. But deep inside I knew the reason why I was working like a dog here instead of in a far off college abroad or anywhere else. I was too anxious to leave this place without cleaning up the mess with Alfred. I didn't want to leave Alfred. I didn't want to separate from Alfred.

"That's so nice of you, Arthur," she said, looking pleased with my response. I paused. What a curious retort… "You were always a caring boy, weren't you?" Even if that were true, was that the expression one was supposed to have when saying that to someone? She didn't look too certain that her own words were the truth. It was almost as if the words tasted odd in her mouth.

"How's Alfred doing?" I blurted without any control or thought. I wanted to cover my mouth at the twitch that rocked Mrs. Jones's body for a split second, her finger halting its motion against the barbeque bottle.

Mrs. Jones seemed to think about this before she smiled back at me and placed her fingers against the handle of her shopping cart, fingers curling quickly around the metal.

"Oh, he didn't tell you?" she asked, though that look was back in her eyes. It made me furrow my brow slightly. Didn't she know we haven't been talking? Somehow I thought she would've known this, as much as she pried into Alfred's life.

"Tell me what?"

She pushed her cart beside mine and patted at my arm, so close that the smell of her perfume consumed me. Up this close I could see the thing hovering behind her eyes even better, and it made something tug in my chest at how upset she looked despite the pleasant smile gracing her lipstick coated lips.

"Alfred is moving."

* * *

It was the middle of the night when I heard the nagging of a muffled noise by my ears. It wasn't loud, but it was enough for me to be forced from my slumber. I sat up and winced, rubbing at the sleep in my eyes as the sound persisted in my bedroom. What was it now?

It only took me a moment to gain my bearings and understand that this was that blasted ringtone Alfred had set to my phone under his contact information. I couldn't remember the song or artist, for a lot of the garbage Alfred listened to was absolute drivel, but I knew it enough to know that it was Alfred.

He was calling my cell phone this very instant.

I immediately floundered and fell from my bed, growling in irritation at the pain radiating in my jaw as I hit the carpet face-first. But the sting didn't last long, for I scrambled to my feet and lunged at my dresser, ready to answer the phone. If Alfred was calling me it had to be one of two reasons.

He wanted to make up.

Or something was horribly wrong.

It didn't matter either way, because the song had withered and died before I could answer. I stared at my phone with wild eyes, breathing heavily for the sudden exertion of force, befuddled at the silent device in my hands.

Alfred had hung up.

* * *

I had almost forgotten about Alfred as June turned into late July. The months just seemed to be falling off the calendar as I continued my routine of going to work, coming home, and sleeping. It was boring, yes, but it was necessary if I was going to attend a school abroad back in England next year. I smiled pleasantly and handed a woman her bags of clothing from over the counter, wishing her a wonderful afternoon.

"Next customer, please!" I said, waving up the next person in line.

Of course I was concerned with Alfred's random call over a month ago, and certainly his mother's declaration of Alfred leaving was weighing heavy on my heart, but life went on. It was easier just to go with the flow rather than fight it. It sucked, but Alfred and I were no longer on the good terms we used to be. As I folded the gentleman's clothes in front of me and rung his clothing up on the register blandly, I contemplated if Alfred was still mad at me for accusing something so heinous of him. Surely it had to be more than that.

_"Alfred really didn't tell you? Oh my, I'm so sorry, Arthur, honey. Yes, my boy was accepted into Brown. Can you believe it? He will be leaving before August."_

I felt a small grimace forming on my face as I gave the man his change. August was so very close… and Alfred would be so very far away…

I knew it was going to happen sooner or later, but I preferred it to happen later rather than sooner.

With a sigh, I placed that plastic smile back onto my face and waved at the man. "Have a good day, sir. I can help the next customer over he–"

The words shriveled and died off on my tongue as I stared wide-eyed over the countertop at the very person who was on my mind. Alfred watched me carefully from his spot in line, eyes uneasy, yet still trying to maintain his control over the situation, as he regarded me as best he could as a stranger. I shut my mouth and regained my composure, looking at him expressionlessly as he approached. Well. At least I could tell that he didn't hate me.

Alfred's eyes always gave himself away, and the way he watched me was with the eyes of someone desperately trying to distance themself from me, but unable to convincingly hide their true feelings with their charade.

Alfred placed his clothing carefully on the counter and watched soundlessly as I began sliding each barcode under the machine. There were a lot of shirts and a few pairs of jeans. I narrowed my eyes somewhat at this, but folded them and put them into bags.

"How are you?" I asked conversationally.

My question broke Alfred from his trance as he snapped his head up in alarm. "G-good." He cleared his throat quickly as his voice cracked, the sound making me withhold the smile threatening to come onto my face. Just being near me was making him nervous. "Good," he stated again, this time with a solid voice and puffed out chest. "You?"

I shrugged. "Not horrible." At least it wasn't a lie. Silence rained down upon us aside from the beeping of the machine every time it scanned the clothing. I kept my eyes down at my progress, wondering how to address Alfred's college situation. I wanted to hear it from him if he was leaving.

Willing to take a chance, I opened my mouth and glanced up at him, eyes meeting his surprisingly to find Alfred staring at me intently, making Alfred jump in surprise and look away, fidgeting. My hand faltered and I scanned the same item twice. I cursed under my breath and removed my mistake from the register. Why was Alfred looking at me so attentively, as if he were taking a mental photograph with every detail?

I peered back at Alfred behind the fringe of my messy bangs to see his ears painted red as he distractedly pouted and toyed with the bottom of his sweatshirt. I felt a pounding under my skin at the realization that Alfred had been doing what I had thought he was doing.

"I'm going to school…" he brought up awkwardly, still refusing to look at me. I took this as my cue to make it easier on him and continue like I hadn't caught him staring at me like a watering hole in a desert.

"Yes, I heard."

Alfred looked at me quizzically. "From who?" he demanded, a little put off that he wasn't feeding me some alarming news.

"Your mother. She told me a while back that you were accepted into Brown. Congratulations. I'm proud of you," I said, looking up and smiling at him despite the sludge inside of me that was most certainly not happy for him. Alfred looked at me like a confused child that had been rewarded instead of scolded for breaking a vase. Was that not the reaction he wanted to pull from me.

Looking a little put out by this, Alfred stuffed his hands in his pockets and rocked on the balls of his feet. "Thanks." He didn't sound grateful in the slightest.

I took a breath and took a leap. "That's pretty far from here."

Alfred kept his chin tucked into the hood of his sweatshirt. "… Yeah." I started to fold his pants. Alfred untucked his head cautiously, much like a curious turtle did from its shell. "Where are you going?"

"Nowhere. I'm not attending school for at least another year. Hopefully by then the tuition prices in London haven't skyrocketed again," I grumbled. They were robbing us blind!

Alfred looked shocked. "_London_!" he exclaimed, quickly covering his mouth when a few patrons in the line looked at him in confusion. I raised an eyebrow at him.

"Yes. Is that an issue?"

Alfred shook his head, but his face most clearly stated that it _was_ an issue. "That's a little far, isn't it?" he asked, frowning despite himself. I caught the condescending attitude he carried and returned his frown with one of my own.

"It isn't that far."

"Duh. It's across the flippin' ocean."

I rolled my eyes and stuffed his shirt into another bag. "Well done. You know your geography."

Alfred crinkled his nose in that displeased way he always had when he noticed the people at our old school staring at the two of us whenever we were around each other. "What made you wanna go to London anyway? Do you have a problem with America or something? I thought your family lived here."

"For your information, just my mother and father reside here. I have nothing else tying me down to this country," I snapped, tossing another shirt into a bag. Alfred continued to brood at me which made anger lick at my insides. What a fucking hypocrite. "And what about you?"

"What _about _me?"

"Brown isn't exactly a walk in the park away from here. It's on the other bloody side of the country! You're being completely unrealistic with jumping on my case when I haven't even decided where I'm going yet!" I hissed at him, fists tight.

Alfred scowled. "But you're thinking about it–"

"I'm not the one who's actually leaving!" I yelled, slamming my hands down against the counter and glaring daggers right back at Alfred who kept on toying with his sweatshirt. I could already tell that I was making a scene in front of the whole store, but that was the least of my worries. All the anger at being ignored and then treated like some Benedict Arnold for even _remotely _skirting around the idea of studying abroad had mounted and was making it hard _not_ to scream. Alfred continued pulling anxiously at his sweatshirt. "I'm not the one who can easily pick up and throw their best friend away like they meant nothing! Like you never needed me and hate my guts for one mistake!" Oh, piss. Now my voice was cracking.

I narrowed my eyes and snatched his hand away from the sleeve of his hoodie. "And stop tugging at your sweatshirt, you imbecile! Why the hell are you wearing that anyway? It's boiling outside!"

And then suddenly it wasn't so boiling anymore, but as cold as an Alaskan winter. I stopped all my shrieking and stared at Alfred like a stone, something sinking down inside of me as I gawked at him. Alfred noticed, and started to persistently tug his arm away from me. It took a few small tugs before my shock thawed enough to let him go.

I frowned slowly, blinking. "Why _are _you wearing a sweatshirt?"

It was a question asked on a still breath of air, but it made Alfred freeze like ice. He held his arm protectively, much like that day beside his pool. My gut churned uncomfortably as Alfred refused to meet my gaze. "Alfred?" He wouldn't look at me. I gulped and frowned down at his bags of clothing, noticing every shirt he was purchasing contained long sleeves. There wasn't a t-shirt in the bunch, not even considering the warm weather streak we'd been having. "Alfred, why are you wearing a sweatshirt?" I asked silently, hoping that it wasn't for the reason I was thinking.

And yet Alfred furrowed his brow stubbornly and refused to look at me.

My skin felt like someone was pricking me with needles, and I opened my mouth to say something, anything, when another voice broke through the air.

It was my manager.

"I'm sorry, sir. Is there a problem here?" asked a man in a white button-up and black slacks as he approached, looking from me to Alfred. Alfred relaxed and gazed back at my manager, much like he was used to tricking the school and his family that he was perfectly fine. Alfred was a great actor. "Is this associate bothering you?" I flinched in annoyance at how displeased he sounded.

Alfred pondered this before shaking his head, smiling. "No. I just started arguing with him for no reason. Misplaced anger and all that stuff. Locked my keys in the car!" he laughed. At this, my manager loosened up and smiled, nodding. Alfred waved him away dismissively, throwing down some bills at me. "I'm sorry for the commotion and delay. Here, keep the change. On me."

Alfred hurriedly gathered his bags and grinned back at us, leaving. I leaned over the counter and reached after him, not ready to leave the conversation at that. "Alfred–"

Before I could say anything, Alfred swiveled on his feet and met my gaze head-on. "I'm fine, Arthur," he reassured with a smile as strong as a house of cards. And then he left as quickly as he came, nothing but the pile of money in front of me and the waft of his cologne to prove that he had ever been here in the first place.

* * *

The days went by in painful blurs, stabbing into my side like an incessant cramp in the abdomen of a dehydrated runner. I still felt anxious and somewhat guilty for my last meeting with Alfred, and I couldn't help but let my thoughts venture into the darker, more implicative corners of my mind about Alfred's wardrobe choices. I honestly wanted to call his brother, because at least Matthew was willing to talk to me, but the idea died before it had even taken shape. I was over the panic and dread in a matter of hours after Alfred had left the store and my manager chewing me out.

I wouldn't do the same thing twice.

If Alfred said that he was fine, I would believe him… as hard as that may be. The evidence pointed to otherwise, but my fear for hurting Alfred the same way once more outweighed my desire to press for answers and confront him about something this serious.

These thoughts only ate at me for a few days, because they were soon pushed aside for an even heftier thought: Alfred was to be moving within the week.

I scowled against my pillow and stared at the darkness in my bedroom for what felt like an eternity. Not one good night sleep this summer. It was, how Alfred used to say, "bogus."

A familiar noise permeated the silence in my bedroom, and my eyes darted in the direction of the now glowing cell phone on my dresser, an absurdly static laced song being pushed out its speakers. I sat up comfortably in my bed, wondering why Alfred would be calling me again in the middle of the night. I remembered back to when this had occurred during the school year, right up until the nights before his breakdown which caused him to crawl into my bedroom after prom.

The logical explanation would have been that Alfred was having another panic attack as he was prone to do with his previous bout of self-harm.

I chose the easier option of him simply butt dialing me by accident.

I sat in my bed and waited till the song rung out to full capacity before it stopped, the call ending. There were five more seconds of silence before the song picked up again. Alfred was calling a second time?

Coincidence?

My throat became tight and I willed myself to stay still. It had to be an accident. Alfred didn't seem like he wanted to talk to me all summer.

The song died down.

Five more seconds.

It started up again.

This time I couldn't help it. This was no coincidence, surely. Alfred was calling of his own volition. Apparently, for some reason, he wanted to talk to me at three in the morning. I hopped out of bed and tried to casually answer my phone, my breath stilling in my mouth as I waited for a voice on the other end.

Hesitantly, I heard some breathing. I tested the waters. "Alfred?" I asked in confusion. There was some rustling on the other end of the phone and the sound of cars driving by. "Hello? Alfred, are you there?"

I heard what sounded suspiciously like a hiccup before Alfred's voice smoothed against my ears, sounding uneasy and strained. "I'm sorry."

I clutched my phone with both hands and took a long, steadying breath. "Alfred–"

"I am, Arthur," he moaned quietly, and I could almost envision him burying his face in his hand as he had on his bed when his secret unfolded all those months ago. There were no tears in the ghost of his voice, though. He didn't sound quite like he had back in high school with the sadness and frustration that always coated his voice, like a scab that wouldn't go away. He sounded pained and nervous this time. I wonder if he was as nervous as I seemed to be, though I had absolutely no reason to be nervous.

"I'm sorry for not telling you. I can't believe out of everyone, my _mom _told you," he laughed bitterly. I surmised he was talking about leaving.

"No, it's quite alright, Alfred. It isn't a big deal–"

"But it is!" he argued, sniffing once, dryly. "It_ is_ a big deal… and I don't think-" I heard more rustling and some creaking, more car engines driving by as someone honked. I felt my brow furrowing. Was he outside? Alfred grumbled in irritation to himself before speaking again. "Can you… I mean, c-can I see you, Arthur?"

I don't know what caused me to hesitate, but it was long enough to make Alfred's breath hitch on the other end of the phone. I recovered quickly. "Where?" I asked, already starting to pull on a pair of pants. This summer night was tepid, but slightly chillier than they were prone to being this year.

I heard more creaking and the clanking of chains. "The park by your house."

I was out the door before he'd even said goodbye when hanging up the phone. There was always a park four blocks from my house that Alfred insisted upon going to when he was in his more anxious of moods. He claimed that being on the playground and in the sand calmed him down and brought him back to the days when he was young; the days when he claimed to have no responsibilities, and people didn't look at him like some blank doll, ready to be painted and pushed to do whatever his parents, teachers, and friends desired of him.

I never really cared for parks much, but as I approached this park and saw Alfred staring at his sneakers, hands holding onto the chains of the swing as he kicked lightly at the sand beneath his feet, I developed a fondness for them. I wondered how Alfred always had a way to make me open up to things I really didn't care for at all before.

He looked so much older, even though I knew it had only been a little over a month since school had let out. I suppose the proper phrase would have been 'worn down.' And I felt my heart heave for him. Someone as cheerful and pleasant as Alfred should never have had to look like a beaten down middle-age man who had lived a life full of hardships.

It was at that moment that I truly understood that I honest to God wanted to be the one to save Alfred.

It was about time that his hero mentality rubbed off on me, wasn't it? I would have smiled and shook my head, but now wasn't the time to be doing that.

I casually approached Alfred enough for him to hear the swooshing of the sand under my shoes. He looked up and his eyes looked as round and bright as the moon, reflections of the stars and streetlamps reflected in those eyes. I wondered how Alfred could look like a weary old man and yet still look like a child needing to be comforted all at once.

"May I sit too?" I asked, gesturing to the swing beside Alfred.

He looked away quietly and nodded, going back to his task of rocking his swing without removing his feet from the ground. I sat beside him and just watched the cars passing down the road, silently debating the reasons Alfred had asked me here, and what I wanted to say.

I'm sorry for accusing you of trying to kill yourself again?

I'm sorry I didn't understand you?

I wish we could've been closer friends?

We were really too different, but it was an interesting experience even though it was bound to never work out?

I'll miss you.

I blinked and stopped rocking my own swing. Not a question? No. That last one wasn't a question, but a statement.

"I thought about it," Alfred muttered quietly, but I still caught it. I glanced at him from the corner of my eye as he watched his feet intently. He lifted his head up, almost surprised he was saying this. "I thought about it, you know."

No. I had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. Alfred looked at me and bit his lip as I watched him blankly. "You weren't wrong, Arthur," he admitted, the muscles in his neck flexing as his face crinkled up with some form of guilt and self-loathing. "Back at school – the day of graduation – you weren't wrong. You weren't wrong to freak out at me like that, because I did think about it."

My heart picked up in my chest, my fingers holding tightly onto the cool metal of the swing.

Alfred smiled lopsided at me. "My phone wasn't dead, and I didn't tell my parents where I was gonna be – just in case. I just really… I don't know. I started to feel like before, with school winding down and college coming and the taunting got worse and I was studying to keep my grades high and then! And then I was valedictorian!" he barked, nearly throwing his head back in his bitter laughing. "You know what that meant?" I didn't move. It wasn't like he was waiting for my answer. "That meant I was gonna stand in front of the whole school who knew me so well like they had conjured up some diary about me. I had to stand in front of people who have said they were my friends but still joked every chance they got about nooses and shotguns and switchblades. It gets old after a while, Arthur! Reaaally old!"

I watched as Alfred ran a hand roughly through his hair and watched me with a grin, eyes glimmering with the stinging of angry tears at the brim of his eyelashes. "And you know what? I was going to be the school's joke."

I frowned and shook my head stubbornly. "You weren't a joke, Alfred–"

"But I was!" He was almost hysterical, unable to look at me now as his eyes grew red and his face contorted with the effort not to cry again in front of me. "They thought I was going to be their big class joke. I realized then that I'm not good at being the butt of a joke, Arthur. Not with something that personal."

I reached out instinctively and patted his shoulder. He was wearing one of the new long sleeved shirts he had bought, and I could still smell the store on it. Alfred stopped long enough to sniff and glance down at where my hand was. He was silent a long while before he tried speaking again, his voice hoarse. "But then your face popped into my head all of the sudden, and it started to scream at me. 'You're selfish' this, and 'Do we mean nothing to you' that… And I don't know why, but I didn't feel like doing it anymore."

Alfred looked at me with wide eyes, leaning in enough to make me flinch as he searched my face for an answer. "Why was it that when I thought of school or my brother or even my own parents I didn't care, but when you pop up I feel ashamed and stupid?"

I had no idea, honestly.

"I have no idea." Exactly.

Alfred didn't move back at the honest answer I had given him, even though he was most likely hoping for an actual reason. I really didn't know why Alfred backed out when he thought about me. But something told me it may have had something to do with this static-shock feeling hovering between us and putting the hairs on my arms on end. It was cool outside, but next to Alfred, I always seemed to feel warm.

Finally, after a long time of just breathing onto each other's faces and unabashed staring, Alfred pulled away and rested his weight completely on his swing again. He had the gall to look bashful this time, and started biting at his lip again. "I'm sorry."

I didn't know if he was saying sorry for getting in my space bubble and lingering there, or if he was sorry for getting in a big fight with me because he had panicked at the reality of what he almost had done at the ending of school. Maybe a little of both.

"You never had to be in the first place," I announced with a scoff, making Alfred peer at me curiously. I set my lips in a line and wagged my finger at him in a scolding fashion. "There was nothing to be forgiven in the first place."

Alfred blinked his round, moist eyes at me, surprised. I felt heat rising up from my chest to my neck slowly, silently contemplating if I appeared too much like his father than his friend just now. But then Alfred snorted this ghastly, animalistic sound as he rubbed his sleeve under his wet nose and started to snicker at me.

"What the fuck, dude? Aren't you gonna ground me?" he asked, his voice high and whiny with laughs and worry. I think he didn't know whether to joke or to fret.

I breathed heavily through my nose and rolled my eyes, it being my turn to look away and watch the cars. "Everyone is entitled to mistakes." It got Alfred to cease his laughter. The words tasted familiar on my tongue as they rolled off and reached Alfred. "You're still Alfred, you know. And as long as you're Alfred and I'm Arthur, I don't think you'll have to worry about any of that depressing nonsense anymore."

I could see rather than feel the silence engulfing us, and I hoped to any divine being up there that Alfred wouldn't cry like he did the last time these words were spoken. I could only take so much of one person crying in a lifetime. But as I looked over at Alfred, he had half his face obscured in his elbow, his arm rubbing back and forth against his face in a motion to look like he was wiping away any snot or tears. I knew better than that, though, and knew he was just being an embarrassed little boy hiding his red ears and cheeks to the best of his ability.

How Alfred got all tangled up in comforting words made me want nothing more than to just keep throwing them out there.

I stopped and just watched the sleeves of his shirt a while, still thinking back to the moment in my department store. "Right?" I nudged him, my words not as lighthearted. They got Alfred to look at me. "No more depressing nonsense?" I edged. Alfred, being the bright fellow that he was, noticed what I was getting at and swatted me away.

"They're for winter," he said, trying to smile. "The East Coast gets cold and I thought…"

Oh, bother. This was a different kind of depressing nonsense afoot.

I had completely forgotten that Alfred was leaving in a few days, and this fact became that much more unbearable than it had been thirty seconds ago. Was it just because we were on good speaking terms now, or was it because I understood that Alfred wanted to go just as much as I wanted him to.

"I don't want to go," Alfred said, voicing my thoughts solemnly.

I sighed and ran my own hands over my face, wishing that he didn't sound so distraught about it. It was making me feel unhappy.

"It's what you worked for," I supplied.

"What my dad made me work for," Alfred corrected sourly.

"Your father didn't _make_ you do anything."

Alfred remained silent. The silence was worse than any argument he could have conjured. I felt my own throat becoming tight, some pressure welling in the back of my eyes as I scowled and glared at the ground. Willpower was something I cherished. I would not be the sappy little bloke who sobbed like a baby.

It still didn't make the fact that I was losing my best friend any easier.

As I was focusing to my full capacity to not let out a sniffle or a groan, Alfred began to make some noise to my side. I chanced a peek, enough so that I could see, but not enough to draw Alfred's attention to my blotchy red eyes, and saw Alfred rolling his sleeves up curiously, eyes focused on the bandages that had always been around his wrists since the incident, wounds healed or not.

I sat up straighter on my swing and waited to see what Alfred would do, arms bare to the world around him, so prone to judging.

"People are gonna ask, aren't they?" he asked lowly, wishing my answer would counter his. But we both knew that would be a lie.

"We are all entitled to mistakes."

Alfred grimaced painfully. "I'm always scared that they're gonna look. They're gonna look and ask things I don't wanna answer."

I didn't say anything, but got up from my swing.

"I can't deal with those eyes again…" Alfred was in the middle of curling his fingers harshly into his palms when he stilled, my hands placing themselves gently on his bandaged wrists. Alfred slowly looked up at me kneeling in front of him in the sandbox, moonlight and lamplight splaying across my hair and his face and all the metal in the playground to seem like a sanctuary away from darkness. Alfred couldn't be in darkness if I was there to shoo it away.

"You don't have to. I know about this," I said, holding up his wrist in my hands, as if to prove a point. "Are my eyes any different?"

"That's different," Alfred said, sounding suffocated when my fingernail tugged at the hem of his bandage.

"Why?" I asked, frankly.

"Because…" he started, fascinated with the way I started to pull his bandaging from his arms, like a snake shedding its skin. One by one the little scars down his arms started to be reflected in the light of the moon, my fingers testing the boundaries and running softly over his tanned skin that I had only seen closed off in the prison of self-conscious bandaging. "Because they've always been different from the start."

I was relieved to hear that and unhappy at the same time. I wasn't aware that I had started to look at Alfred with these eyes of mine from the moment I intervened outside the school steps. It made me wonder how observant Alfred had been throughout this friendship. And yet as I looked up at him to see what his expression could be at finally showing another soul his lifelong regret, I was surprised to see the lingering reprieve washing over him.

He tucked his chin into his neck and looked self-conscious for a completely different reason than someone worried about their visage to their friend. He wasn't worried for my reaction to these scars. He wasn't worried that I was judging him like he was laid out bare as a naked child. For the first time, I noticed how observant Alfred really was.

He looked more embarrassed that I was touching his most sensitive spot rather than any judgments I could be making about him.

My breath stuttered as I squeezed back at his hands, my eyes downcast at his wrists. There was a new worry consuming the fear of leaving for a new school, or making new friends, or leaving each other for God knew how long. There was something between us that was prickly and warm that caused this new fear to flow into our bodies simultaneously.

Something that was bigger than either of us.

And I knew that as I kneeled quietly in front of Alfred alone in this park, hands together, fingers dangerously close to entwining, that the bandages on the sand were the least of the hurdles Alfred and I were going to tackle.

This frighteningly magnificent feeling consuming us left me just as terrified as it did breathless.


End file.
